Goodnight gall, goodnight bladder

Surgery is over, gall bladder is out, and I am finally home. Due to some bleeding I had to stay overnight in the hospital. Apparently the gall bladder was stuck to the liver and when they yanked it out the bleeding began. So I stayed overnight which was fine due largely to some wonderfully mothering nurses with their ice chips and morphine. I was hoping for a sponge bath but perhaps I set my sights too high. Nurses don't do that I guess. But nurses work hard and whatever they get paid it's not enough. I was largely silent in my delirium so it's not like I was bothering them, but I could hear people vomiting and groaning elsewhere and if I had to put up with that every day I'd go nuts. So more money for nurses. And more sponge baths for patients.

Morphine, by the way, is awesome and I can totally understand why someone might get hooked on it. I felt really good in addition to not feeling any pain, and when they switched me to percoset that was fine but morphine, yeah, a little euphoria going on there. That's not something I have every day.

And then I guess because I'm inappropriate or stupid, or both, when I got home I took my prescription to to the pharmacy, and when he asked me what I need, I said, "Some delicious percocets please." The lesson I learned today is that the pharmacist (who sees me just about every morning waiting for the bus) doesn't like to joke about drugs. My bad. Now give me my drugs bitch cause I need to get high and go online. W00t!!1!

Where I've been

Not having my gall bladder out, that's where. I get that done tomorrow. Until then I just spend time dreading the idea of being cut open, albeit with very small holes. But taking off my clothes and being knocked unconscious...I'm drunk when that happens. But I can't be drunk for surgery.

I was drunk this weekend though, which is usually a good thing, but this time not so much. I shouldn't go to parties where I only know two people because, even though I meet some interesting people this way, I also meet some douchie people who kind of ruin my day, and I can't seem to get drunk enough to make that go away.

Douchie people aside, I've also been carrying buckets of water from the basement to dump outside. Something is going on with the drain spout out back and a pipe connected to it which hilariously empties out into the basement. I'm no expert, but I think letting runoff from the gutters drain into the basement is a little, shall we say, foolish. But only if it rains, like it's been doing the past three days. Otherwise I'm sure it's a great idea.

In the meantime, I will carry buckets of water until someone cuts me open.

I sobered up for this?

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.

I vote for pain relief

Oy, I'll be glad when this primary is over. I've stopped answering the phone because both candidates keep calling me. I thought I was suddenly popular, but no, it's just my vote they want.

So I'm just here clinging to my guns and religion in my bitterness and wondering who I will vote for. Do I vote for the millionaire from Illinois or the millionaire from New York? They're both so much like me.

I guess I'll just sit back and watch them call each other elitists and vote for the one who promises to make my gallstones go away. Why hasn't anyone addressed that issue? I mean anyone besides my doctor?

Can I vote for the woman who took my blood this morning without hurting me? Maybe we need a phlebotomist in the White House.

Gallstones: A Love Story

Another night, another blinding attack. I rode this one out and it only lasted an hour, but it was the longest hour of my life. There was a point at which I was ready for the emergency room, but I'm glad I didn't go since the pain stopped at about the time I probably would have seen a doctor. My doctor is booked until Monday so I have to watch what I eat until then.

I think the problem was some delicious Indian food I had for dinner. I thought it was low in fat but I guess I was wrong. The gall bladder helps break down fat that's eaten, and if there's a stone in the way, bile can't be excreted and then the pain begins.

What this all means to me is lots of vegetables. Yummy, delicious vegetables, which I love anyways.

And hopefully no more pain. Pain not delicious.