Part Two

So we get to the hospital and Jenn whips the truck into a parking space, hops out, and jogs towards the entrance of the er.  Hi!!  Fat girl in a lot of pain here, no jogging please!!  (And yes, she offered me a wheelchair, but at this point I’m still positive the docs are going to take one look at me and tell me to go home and fart.  I am not about to sit in a wheelchair, thank you very much.)

We get inside and the nurse at the desk asks what the problem is.  Jenn explains (since I can’t even breathe right it hurts so bad) that I am having pain in my chest and it hurts to breathe.  Nurse picks up the phone and calls for an EKG team.  I have never been hooked up to 87 silver sticky things so quickly in my life.  Two women, 87 silver sticky things and some wires.  I blinked and the EKG was over.  They sent Jenn, me and our restaurant style pager out to the lobby to wait.

I waddled over to the waiting chairs and had just lowered myself into my chair when the pager thingy went off.  Cute little nurse comes over and says “Follow Me!” in as sweet of a voice she could…and then begins to fly through the corridors.  Hi!!  Fat girl in a lot of pain here!!  Slow down please 🙂

They get me in my room and start talking about an iv.  I warn her that I have crappy veins.  She rolls her eyes.  Yes, I understand that everyone says they have crappy veins.  But I actually do.  She looks at my arms and declares my veins beautiful!  I warn her they bounce.  She rolls her eyes.  I point out the one and only place that anyone ever has any luck with.  She rolls her eyes.

15 pokes later, two nurses and an iv team later, the iv is placed in the spot I pointed out.

Every person I met asked what I was feeling and then asked “Do you still have your gallbladder?”  Yes, but I have a feeling that I’m about to lose it???

Then they shot me full of Dilaudid.  Should I ever win the lottery and become a drug addict, I’m pretty sure Dilaudid will be my drug of choice.  It is an opioid.  I could do that.  It made me happy.  Sadly doesn’t last very long, but it felt darn good while it did.

Next step: ultrasound.  Here I am, high on Dilaudid and being wheeled into an ultrasound room.  I freaked out.  I started shaking and crying and hyperventilating.  You see, the last time I was wheeled into an ultrasound room I was told that my son was dead.  And this was all I could think of.  The poor nurse calmed me down and we began the boob tango.

Yes, I just went from crying about my dead son to a boob tango.  I was high people!!  HIGH!  And yes, I just used the phrase boob tango.  The spot they wanted to ultrasound is located directly under my right boob.  I’ve talked about my rather large boobs before.  (I will be sharing hospital pictures that will further demonstrate the large size of my chest).  I basically held my boob in various positions while the ultrasound tech took pictures.  Can you move it this way?  Sure.  Can you move it over here?  Sure.  Can you roll over and not let go of it.  Do you know how wide I am compared to this gurney lady?  Not to mention the fact that although you are only looking at a 6 inch square part of my body I am lubed up from head to toe with your ultrasound goo?

She took me back to my room and to my Jenn who was looking slightly disgruntled.  It seems that even though I have a file of paperwork stating that Jenn has legal authority over me in every way shape and form that you can legally have authority over someone who you are not legally married to, one of the nurses was giving Jenn a hard time.  She wouldn’t let Jenn ask any questions, nor would she let Jenn answer any questions.  From this point forward when any person would walk into my room I would introduce her as Jenn, my wife, with a glare.  I dare anyone to argue that point with me while I am in severe pain AND high on opiates.  This particular nurse was the only nurse the entire stay that even flinched.  Everyone else acted like they had seen it a million times before and went on with their normal routine.

Finally Mr. Doctor man comes in to see me.  He surprises us all with the news that “Your gallbladder really needs to come out.”  Wow.  After being asked 92 times if I still had it, I had pretty much assumed that it and I would be parting ways shortly.

He gave two options.  Have it out in the morning, or come back in a week.  Neither of these options were really all that great for me.  Jenn starts work in a week.  If I wait a week to have the surgery she won’t be able to stay home with me.  If I have it in the morning, I am going to miss the busiest week of work AND my boss is out of town.  I began to cry.  Mr. Doctor Man gave us a few minutes to talk about it.

He peeked his head back around the door with a pretty scary look on his face and said “Um, nevermind.  I just saw the ultrasound.  You will be having surgery in the morning.”  And that was that.

It seems that the opening to your gallbladder is this big:

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and I had a stone in the opening that was this big:

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My whole gallbladder was swollen and yucky looking.  It and I needed to say our goodbyes.

(too be continued)


7 thoughts on “Part Two

  1. Wow, if it weren’t for your fantastic sense of humor, I would be worried about your recovery at this point, but it sounds like you have recovered with your humor, if not your gall bladder intact.

  2. Although I am sure it was scary in the moment and truly painful, your accounts are hilarious! Boob tango….too much.

  3. I don’t miss my gall bladder one bit. I thought I was having a heart attack. And I just wet my pants reading about “boob tango”:-)

  4. ACK!! So THAT’S where you’ve been!! So glad to hear you’re on the mend but if the writing bug doesn’t come back, I’ll have to go find you’re gallbladder.

    Because the ‘boob tango’? I can’t go without stories like that!!

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