I now know that my troubles began about ten years ago, that what I thought was really bad heartburn was actually my gallbladder beginning to tucker out on me. Who knew? Certainly not me. I don't know that I even thought about the fact that I HAD such an organ before 2 months ago. There were all kinds of lively circumstances leading up to the discovery that this piece of me had to go, but the important thing is, I went in for surgery on the 12th of November. I felt perfectly awful the two weeks before I went in; threw up routinely every six hours, my chest felt like it would surely explode 18 out of 24 hours every day. Everyone kept telling me I was gonna (and I quote) "feel like a brand new person" as soon as that thing was out. So, as scared as I was of scalpels, lasers, IV's, surgical masks, and the thought of being incoherent and unable to control what secrets I may or may not reveal about myself, I was actually looking forward to feeling better.
I got dressed up in my fancy, purple hospital gown that had a nifty hose attachment that pumped in either hot or cold air, whichever suited me at the moment, and the socks with the nobby tread (in case I decided to four wheel thru the corridor, I reckon) that they gave me. And then....... I laid there for a couple of hours. Just long enough to get good and nervous and to start having second thoughts about the whole thing, especially since my gallbladder had gone silent the day before and I felt pretty darn good. But, I was outnumbered and surrounded by my family so a mad dash for the nearest exit was no option. The nice little man with the syringe made all that nerve stuff stop in about five seconds flat. Let me just say, it's a good thing that whatever they pumped into my veins is not readily available for me to get my hands on...I'd be a worthless addict. No doubt. The whole world just gets soft and fuzzy and I can't even really remember my own name.... :) Good times, good times.
Anyway! They wheeled me into an operating room, another first for me. At this point, I'm talking nonstop cuz #1-I feel pretty good, and #2-I run my mouth to hide the fact that I'm scared and want to cry. I don't know for sure when I went out but it must've been an all of a sudden thing. When I woke up, ceiling tiles and fluorescent lights were whizzing by and I couldn't get my bearings for all the turns I was being wheeled around. Whoever was pushin' that bed had obviously done it many times before. I kept ripping an oxygen mask off my face...who in the world can breathe with those things on?? They finally shoved the little tube-y things up my nose which I didn't really appreciate at all. They were all talkin' about me like I wasn't there and I couldn't get my mouth to work to demand to know just WHAT was goin' on! About the time they flipped my butt into another bed with its own room and TV, I MADE my tongue work. An overnite stay was not on the itinerary! But, it happened.
The surgery didn't go as planned...that gallbladder was in sad, sad shape. Needless to say, I did not feel like a brand new person and promptly said so. Lies, all lies!! PAIN is what I felt. Not for long tho...they doped me up on enough morphine to make me sleep til two the next afternoon. As sore as I still was when I woke up, I wanted to go home and since it was Friday, the good doc was agreeable.
However, I woke up at 3:00 a.m. on Monday morning with extreme chest pains...JUST like when I had a gallbladder. Hmmmm. It took about 5 seconds for me to lose complete hope that I would ever feel good again. If the gallbladder was GONE and I STILL felt this way....well, as I told Josh, "Just shoot me and don't miss." And, I meant it. And so, about six hours later, I began my trek to the ER. I have serious issues with emergency rooms...all I've ever done is sit in them for hours on end only to have someone send me on my way feeling as bad as I did before. I had no hope they would do one single thing to help me and I would sit in that stupid waiting room for hours in this horrid pain and retching over a public toilet with sick people staring at me. Or, worse, they would simply tell me that I had to live this way...forever.
I'm happy to say that I was wrong. I had a gown and my very own room (again) within an hour. More & better drugs..good thing too, cuz they starved me for the better part of two days (ice chips..whatever!)in preparation of Surgery #2 to remove a stone that was hidin' out when Surgery #1 went down. I was given the consent of now two good docs on the third day to go home again...this time minus 11 staples and a JP drain. Okay, the drain is a really disgusting part of the story that I'm just gonna leave out cuz I'm already shuddering remembering the removal part. Ugh.
Surgery #2 was an "endo" surgery so they just went down my throat instead of cutting or slicing anything. BUT (and it's a big one) , I missed the whole lecture he gave me on possible after effects (couldn't have been the pain or maybe the pain medication). Internal bleeding was one of those effects, apparently. I knew I felt bad the next day but I had already decided I was just gonna be sickly for the rest of my life so I was tryin' to grow accustomed to feeling bad. But, three days later, I couldn't stand up without losing my vision and hearing and well, that scared me more than the pain ever hurt me.
Back to the ER we flew. I didn't even worry this time about whether or not they'd treat me...I knew if they didn't, I was a goner anyway and quite frankly, I just didn't care right then. Three units of blood, more starvation, one more time down the throat to have a look see, four more days in the hospital, two of those in ICU, lots of invasive routines that pretty much took care of every shred of modesty I ever had, seven IV attempts (3 of which were successful), and at least 10 blood draws from every possible source on my arms and hands and they released me for what I hope was the final time. Those people all took excellent care of me but if I never see any of them again, that'll be just fine. I'm pretty sure the feeling is mutual.
And now...I STILL don't feel like a brand new person. Lies! All lies!! But, I AM alive and I'm pretty grateful for that. At least for today.
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