Surgery?? Seriously?

Seems like it's been a year since I blogged anything...or maybe it's just that a year's worth of crap has happened in what seems like such a short time. Dunno. What I DO know is that I'm gettin' old..and it's becoming more and more apparent every day!

I'm of that group of women who's motto has always been, "If you can still walk and the bone's not pokin' out, you're fine. Get on with your life." I'm that way with MYSELF, not with the kids or even Josh. Just me. I think that's what moms just do...put ourselves on the back burner for the sake of our families.....they always come first. "Mom" should be synonymous with "sacrifice". It's just what we do. Moms rock.

However, about a month ago, I sat straight up in bed at about midnite...it felt like someone had dropped a cinder block on my chest. NOT a good feeling. I sat there for a second, waiting on the pain to pass. It didn't. I thought, "Well, it's just the way I'm sittin'. I'll get up and move around and I'll be just fine." So, I got up quietly (PRIDE in the way of freakin' smooth out), walked into the living room and realized something was bad wrong. I couldn't breath and the pain wasn't showing the slightest sign of receding. Of course, your mind goes a million miles a minute and I was thinkin' about 30 different things every second or so. I was pretty sure I was havin' a heart attack.

Husband's have this intuition thing that kicks in...but never until the last moment, it seems. I turned around to go get Josh and he was just there. The panic must have been evident in my eyes cuz I instantly saw it reflected in his which just made me panic more, which made him panic more...it escalated in no time flat to a yelling match about the emergency room. I didn't put up much of a fight...I couldn't breathe for one and, second, I was sorta scared I might be dying. No bones, blood, or babies tryin' to come out but I was A-OK with going to the hospital, suddenly.

Of course, by the time we got to the ER 20 minutes later, I was better and refused to go in. :) Have I mentioned I have a slight fear of doctors and hospitals????? Anyway, I did go to the doctor the next day...TWICE because the attacks would not stop. They checked my heart and lungs and said everything looked good...that was that, the pain subsided and I didn't think a whole lot more about it beyond the scariness of the whole incident. Did some research and decided I probably had reflux or a hiatal hernia. I'm so good with the self-diagnosis thing, you see.

Then, last week, it happened again. Only this time it lasted four days. Of course, I didn't go the the hospital until the fourth day....the pain finally got bad enough. Seems pain, for me, is a way to break down my pride....sad that it takes really INTENSE pain tho! On the way to the doc's, I began to throw up..and throw up some more, and then....even some more. Good thing I hadn't eaten in 24 hours, wasn't much to come up. I was thinkin', "PIG FLU!". But the pain in my chest was SO bad. Child birth x 100, at least. I remember pleading with Josh, "You HAVE to make them help me...please don't let them send me away without helping me. If they do, you'll have to shoot me. I can't live like this."

After 8 hours at the clinic (with NO food), many tests and an ultrasound, they broke the news to me that my gallbladder had to be removed. Sounded like an old person's problem to me. I knew I HAD a gallbladder but never really stopped to think about how it functions and it NEVER occurred to me that this little organ could wreak such havoc in my life and make me think I was dying! But, whatever. The pain had subsided for the time being and I was hungry enough to eat the paint right off the walls so I know I heard the doctor say the word "surgery" but I just didn't really care right then. The doc told me low fat, no chocolate, no fried food and the lovely receptionist told me to report back on the 24th of November. I hit the door and then the drive thru at the nearest Micky D's. Was hard to NOT get fries but I gotta say, that dry salad may as well have been a cheesecake and it didn't last long!

I thought the 24th sounded a long way off...especially if that pain ever came back...I'd RATHER have died than go thru that again. But, I just shrugged it off and assumed that they knew more about this stuff than me and that surely, they must have known I would feel okay until then or they woulda' never let me go that long. Right? Wrong. So, so wrong. The next 2 days were more or less hell on earth and by Wednesday nite, we were, once again, en route to the ER.

I tried to be strong, really, I did. I can't explain how BAD this crap hurts...feels like your chest is exploding, like someone is blowing up a balloon that is crammed up under your rib cage. Hurts your chest, your ribs, your back...you name it, it HURTS. I thought a nice, hot bath might help. No. I didn't even get to rinse the conditioner outta my hair...I threw some clothes on and told Josh to get me somewhere, I was pretty sure something vital had ruptured. He flew 90 or so all the way to Poteau and about the time I hung my head out the window and began to puke, he floored it. We had a cop behind us, not sure for how long and even tho' it was OBVIOUS we were on our way to the ER, he ordered us to PULL OVER. After being told to SLOW DOWN (not in an "optional" kinda way either), we proceeded to drive the remainder of the 3 blocks to the hospital while the officer stayed behind us...closely. I guess just in case the Nascar driver and his gaggin' cohort decided to pull a fast one....

I felt pretty good after throwin' up all over the place but I decided that I better go in the ER after the whole cop car thing. A skinny little cop met me with a wheelchair which I did NOT want to sit in and I certainly didn't want him pushin' my fat butt up the hill and thru the doors. But there I was, in a wheelchair with a heaving little guy pushin' more than he bargained for, UP a dang hill. I couldn't imagine what I looked like but I knew I didn't smell too pretty but I figured I'd be alright once the nurse tucked me away in one of the rooms and no one could see me. Wrong again (there seems to be a pattern here). Some guy grabbed that wheelchair and pushed me right thru a waiting room full of people who looked at me like I was diseased. I was thinkin, "I must look really bad!". I was still thinkin' that he must be taking me to a ROOM with a DOOR. No. My little wheelchair ride came to an abrupt halt right in front of the billing clerk. The nerve!

The little billing clerk couldn't have been a day over 18 and when she looked at me, I could tell she didn't want to get any closer to me than absolutely necessary. I assured her it was OK, that I didn't have anything that was contagious, no swine flu. I was still in shock that I was sitting in front of a lot of people covered in puke! When the cops finished lecturing Josh on the dangers of speeding, I made him answer all the billing questions and I went to the bathroom to take a look at what everyone was starin' at. Good Lord..if I hadn't known it was a mirror I was looking into, I'd have been scared myself. I looked like I'd been in a bar room brawl: my hair was a frizzy disaster with left over greasy conditioner and bits of regurgitated red jello in it,I was also sporting a good deal of red jello on my shirt, AND my mascara had run all the way down about to my knees....I was a walking nightmare. When I walked back out, Josh handed me my newly printed hospital bracelet. I promptly slid it back across the clerk's desk and informed her I would be leaving, but thanks anyway. She didn't say anything...just stared some more.

The next day, I landed myself a prescription for some serious pain pills...life savers, is what they are and I got them to move my surgery up by three weeks. I will be having my first ever surgical experience on the 3rd of November @ 2:45. I'm a little nervous about being put under. Well, and then there's the fact that a piece of me is coming out...and then the horror stories I've heard from all the "gallbladder veterans" about what eating is like afterward...and then the prospect of the weight gain they all keep talking to me about....fun stuff.

Hopefully all goes well and that I'm pleasantly surprised by the whole experience. Hopefully.