My Gall Bladder Myself

Funny thing happened when, after a week of calling and waiting, and finally being told officially that yes, I have gallstones. I was told to get them out as soon as possible and was referred to a surgeon. I was asked first if I have preference for surgeons and I said my only preference was for someone who could successfully locate said organ and then, with equal success, remove the fucking thing. In short, no, I do not have a surgeon on retainer and would thus need my doctor to recommend one. So the girl who works at the office gave me the name and number of someone who does this all the time.

After leaving a message at the surgeon's office, I got a call back and the woman asked me when I want to schedule my colonoscopy.

Eh? Is that necessary? It's not really connected to my gall bladder.

She says, "We do colo-rectal surgery here."

Oh my. Well that's very different than what I need. Ok then, back to my other doctor.

Haha, the office is closed until Monday. Please call back.

Oh I will. You can bet I will.

I wonder if my doctor was even looking at the results of my tests. For all I know, he could have me confused with someone who has...I don't know, a really diseased ass or something.

In any event, no more attacks since I've basically been eating veggies and everything low fat. And I'm slightly less fat too so in that way we're all winners in this.

Last night was at a Moroccan restaurant with about 25 of Eulalia's teacher colleagues, something I usually avoid lest I be subjected to endless discussions of English department protocols and tales of student papers, but given there were so many people I could move around when that sort of thing started.

Then the belly dancer showed up, which made it vastly more interesting than if, say, a juggler had shown up. I drank a lot, she made me dance (she made me, I swear, I would never dance in public. Never!)

Sometime during the belly dancer's shimmying the guy next to me was talking about Ralph Nader and getting him on the ballot, and yes, he should be allowed on the ballot, I voted for Ralph before, he's the only one addressing the real issues, etc., and before I knew it, this morning the doorbell rang and there he was, the guy from last night, he was in my living room with a bunch of petitions for me to get signed. He wants me to stand out on the street and collect signatures for Ralph.

Wha?

Apparently I will agree to anything if there is a belly dancer and a bottle of wine in front of me. I smell a conspiracy.

Also, I'm not collecting signatures. I love Ralph and all, but I hate being approached by people with clipboards while I'm going somewhere, and I'd rather not be on the receiving end of that hatred. Our democracy needs fixing, but I don't think I'm going to be the one to fix it.

However, if Ralph can recommend someone to take out my gall bladder without going in through my ass, I'll get him some signatures.