The whole ordeal started the weekend before last (somewhere beginning June). I had been feeling queasy but not sure why, so I proceeded to blame it on "Tum" the tummy. He wasn't being very nice and we weren't sure why. Culprits and suspects among our case were stress, a stomach bug, or maybe my dog had even given me giardia. Whatever it was, it was awful. It came with back pain, chest pain, I couldn't breathe, there was no way to lay down or even get comfortable, yet it only came on strongly at night.
Being the drama queen I am, I'm thinking the worst, like maybe cancer or some terrible unknowing doom that's unfixable and that I'm terminal.
So Friday night, June 10th, it starts around 10pm and I sit around until 3am like an idiot hoping it goes away. I'm panicking by this point, not wanting to go to the hospital but knowing it's a necessary thing by now. We drag ourselves downstairs, and granted, this is all way more dramatic than I'm sure it was, but I'm laying on the couch telling my mom to hurry up. Meanwhile, Omelette is running around confused as crap. My first question "Mom, what do we do with Shimmer?" What? Like I thought we were gonna be able to take her. I guess it was just one of those random questions that happened to pop up.
Next thing I know, we're driving down highway 6, me looking all drugged up and drunk in the passenger seat wondering which hospital we're going to. By this point, I really wasn't able to walk and mom helped me get into the emergency room lobby. Since there were no couches, I draped myself over some half crap love seat excuse for a couch and someone came out and took my vitals. I don't remember what they said, but all I remember having to go do was pee in a cup. Quite tricky when your gallbladder (unbeknownst to you) is having a temper tantrum and what not.
We get into one of the rooms (room 6) and my morbid self can only think of how 6 is the devil's number and how I just may die because my insides feel like they're burning and soaking in corrosive acids.
A bunch of people did a bunch of pushing on my belly (which definitely made my gallbladder even more unhappy). I got to have a CAT scan done and thought about random dye hanging out in my insides going, "weeee look at us, we're organs". So, they give me an IV telling me I'm dehydrated and that the IV will help that and my stomach calm down. Well, about half way through the IV bag my stomach is still not feeling great. They finally give me a shot of morphine and I'm out until they come back around 6am to tell me my lymph nodes are being weird and swelling and that they want me to see a specialist. By this point, I'm thinking, "boy, don't I feel 'special' getting to see a specialist. Hopefully this doesn't mean I'm dying."
We get up to a room on 5th floor and it's all nice and pretty and private. I'm out at this point just trying to make the pain go away. Around 1pm that afternoon I get my belly squished even more when they do an ultrasound. Granted, the lady was super nice, but the entire time I laid there wanting to punch the wall because again, my insides were screaming out in pain. Life was good though, cause afterwards, they gave me a nice warm blanket. FTW!
They told us that the surgeon would be in the next day (Sunday) to talk to us about what was going on since the weekend schedule was different and he was already gone for the day. I'm thinking surgeon, and panicking again, but try to get some sleep, and thanks to the morphine, it worked.
The surgeon came in the next day and really broke the news like a bombshell.
Surgeon: "So, I've been hearing you've been having problems with your gallbladder."
Me: "Huh?"
*Surgeon proceeds to poke belly*
Surgeon: "Well, we'll do surgery tomorrow. It's pretty quick, we do it with a laser, and it should take 20-30 minutes tops."
Me: "HUH?!?!"
*Marcella proceeds to burst into tears frantically*
Surgeon: "No tears, it'll all be ok..."
Ok, so maybe he wasn't that bland about it, but he was pretty straight forward and chill with it, and here I am sitting, thinking, "DAMN IT!"
By this point we're naming things in the hospital. We realized the whole thing wasn't Tum's fault, but instead Gall that was causing the issue. Gall was the one that brought all the stones into the apartment complex causing grumpy old Tum to be upset and call for an eviction notice. We also decided to give the hospital a name....Holly the Hospital. I think the morphine was getting to me at this point. Along with that, I had Irene Victoria, my trusty IV who went with me everywhere. Boy, I miss that girl...Like I said, morphine talking....all morphine.
The surgery crap and everything that followed was basically a frantic, "Oh God, will I be ok?" followed by, everything went fine, and there's a few cuts in me, and I'm missing a gallbladder. All is well though and the healing is going fine. I'm still thinking though, poor gallbladder, if only it hadn't been such a difficult tenant in my house, maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't have had to be kicked out with all it's unruly little gallstone children...
Aside from that, I figured I'd do a little illustration since my gallbladder was super and I mean like CRAZY inflamed according to the blunt surgeon man who we see again on Wednesday for a check up. I'm hoping my belly won't get poked like crazy again, it's still trying to get over being blown up, having a camera stuck inside it, and having tools move around and rearrange all of my organs, thankyouverymuch.
Thanks to all those who thought of me and sent me well wishes and prayers on facebook. I also appreciate everyone who came to visit me while I was in the hospital and brought me beautiful flowers, pretty cards, and all the great nurses and doctors that made sure I was ok. It could always be worse, I'm alive, I'm healthy, and that's what matters. :)
Hope the picture kind of gives you an idea of what my life has been like for the past week or so...
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