OF ALL THE GALL!!!

 Bladder that is, I say, Gall Bladder. I used to have one, now I am bereft.

One evening in early March I was experiencing my usual symptoms of gall bladder pain, caused, I thought (and maybe still do), by an overstimulation of one of the nerves from my back connected to the bilious little organ. It customarily started with chest pain, like being squeezed by a giant hand, followed often by copious vomiting until exhausted from dry heaves (sorry for the image).  But this time was different--it didn't go away. What was usually 60-90 minutes of awfulness stretched on for 4 hours.  It was, as best I can imagine, akin to labor, swapping out the intensity of that experience for the continuity of unrelenting pain.  Jane gave me a pill around 5 AM and I finally got a few hours of sleep.  It was a little better upon awakening, but it had gotten my attention.

The next day I went to see a new acupuncturist (Dr. Chip) to get some ongoing relief.  He helped a lot, and upon hearing me say I was going home to try his liver and gall bladder cleanse, he was firm that it was too late for that.  The expression he used that made my ears prick up was "It's a matter of life and death."  Hmmm, that sounds scary.  Turns out, if the gall bladder ruptures and all the icky bad stuff it was accumulating escapes into your bloodstream (like a pack of hounds after a fox), your life expectancy without treatment is about 18 minutes.  According to Dr. Chip, and I have no reason to doubt him.  But the "life or death" part kinda stood out so I bopped on down to the emergency room at Bartow hospital for an ultrasound, just to check it out.

Turns out, it isn't so easy to read an ultrasound through extensive bowel gas--a hazard of being my age--but my white cell count was 4 times the norm so they decided, and I reluctantly agreed, to stay the night and do some more tests in the morning.  The nurse/administrator found it hard to believe I had never been hospitalized and that I had "no medical history."  [spoiler alert, it doesn't last]  I was happy to tell the staff that no, this isn't my first rodeo, but it is my first time in the saddle.  Been a visitor often enough but now it's me in the big bed.

Morning came (slowly) and I got to experience the sensation of becoming radioactive for a short while.  They injected radioisotopes into me and watched as the green glow expressed itself onscreen into the liver and through to the gall bladder.  If only.  No picture of the GB appeared, meaning it was not getting or sending the good stuff and was likely in bad shape. They said.  So surgery would fix it. They said.  Newfangled robotic laparoscopic technique, I'd hardly know they were there.  They said.  So, another bucket list item completed, along with becoming radioactive--being attacked by a 3 armed robot and surviving.

To be honest, it was a bit of a blur. No pain at any time, fortunately.  The doctor told me I wouldn't remember anything for the next few days and, of course, I disagreed.  My memory would stand by me and protect me. Apparently my memory is no match for the devastation of whatever drugs they pumped in me.  Jane would  later ask if I remembered some the things I said or did, and I, of course, didn't believe her when she "reminded" me.  Tough to take.

I am now 6 months out and most of the scars are healed, all but the big one where the little bugger was extracted.  I expect I will have that for the duration, whether or not I ever get back to my post-op weight.  Small price to pay for pain relief.  Dr. Chip warned me that the medical folks would tell me the gall bladder was just an accessory and we really didn't need it, like the appendix and spleen.  If thy gall bladder offends thee, pluck it out.  Chip also said my digestive system would never be the same.  He was right.  Now I take enzymes with each meal (if I remember), but I am not sure how much good they do.