Part Four (or, the end)

I was brought a dinner of yuck. Jell-o, chicken broth (that I don’t believe had ever met a real chicken), raspberry sherbert and apple juice. I did drink the apple juice, after they brought me a glass of ice to go with it. Jenn went down to get her dinner and came back up with the most beautiful pile of mashed potatoes. I ate them. They were yummy.

Joni, Lyz, Chris, Avery and Delaney came in to visit me. The girls enjoyed my view:



Avery colored and watched movies with me:

Delaney thought the room was rather confining, so Jenn and Chris would take her on walks in the hallway (even when the fire alarm went off and they were told to stay in the room. Hmmm…I don’t remember ever finding out if the file alarm was a test or the real thing?) The one time she left I got up to pee (I peed a lot. Like a lot a lot. I would wake Jenn up every twenty minutes at one point. And each pee would last five minutes. Jenn alternated between laughing and crying at this). So when Delaney got back in the room I wasn’t in my bed. I heard her make a HHHH noise, and when I opened the door she smiled at me, said “hhhhh” and pointed me towards my bed. Sweet little thing!

Thursday night was long again. It would take me forever to find a comfortable position so that I could fall asleep, and as soon as I would fall asleep someone would come in to take my temp, or my blood pressure, or check on my incisions (one of them was not sealed up right and kept bleeding) or steal my blood. Sigh. Get some rest!! They’d exclaim. “Leave me the ____alone” I would answer, inside my head of course.

The talk of going home was interesting. And if I never hear the phrases “Pass Gas” or “Bowel Movement” again, I will be thrilled. They started by saying I would be able to go home on Sunday. Then Saturday became the goal. After I wolfed down my breakfast and was caught walking around my room because I was tired of laying in the bed, I was awarded freedom on Friday afternoon. I was passing gas, but not moving my bowels, but they decided gas passing was good enough.

Home was rather boring. I would just lay around in a state between asleep and awake. A friend had brought over some groceries so I ate a lot of yummy turkey sandwiches. On Saturday another friend brought over dinner and I ate that. I was an eating, drinking, peeing machine, but sleep was still elusive. I am a tummy sleeper. Not being able to sleep on my tummy sucks.

Sunday we went over to Joni’s for family dinner. She made really yummy stuffed pork chops.

Monday afternoon Jenn’s phone rings and it is Dr. Man’s office. Just checking in to see how I was. Has she moved her bowels yet? Um, no… OH MY GOODNESS!!!!! Jenn was given orders to find a way to make me move my bowels before 4pm or take me back to the hospital. This became the whole focus of Monday. It hurts to try and move your bowels when you have 5 incisions on your belly. Jenn threatened me with milk of magnesia, suppositories and enema’s. I refused them all. At 3:55pm, I met my goal.

All in all recovery hasn’t been too bad. I’m still a little sore two weeks later. The incision in my belly button is the worst. I’m sleepy a little better, it just takes forever to get comfortable, and since I tend to roll around a lot, I get woken up when I’m in a position that isn’t right for my belly.

I don’t remember ever being actually scared. I honestly still can’t believe it all happened. Even after the surgery I was expecting Dr. Man to say that it wasn’t actually my gallbladder, and I should just go home and fart. I laughed a lot. The weirdest thing of this whole experience to me was being the one in the hospital bed. I’m the one who goes to visit. I’m the one who makes sure everyone else is comfortable when they have been injured, surgered or under observation. I didn’t really like being the one everyone else was worried about.

I do have one more thing to add. I want to thank my son. I’m 100% positive it was Blue who whispered “gallbladder” in my ear. If he hadn’t done that, I most likely would never have agreed to go to the hospital. A lot of people asked me about my angel tattoo on my back. When I would explain that it was for my son who was born still, they would all say “I’m sorry”. I’d reply, “Don’t be. I have an extra angel watching over me.” Thank you for watching over me Blue!! I love you!

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4 thoughts on “Part Four (or, the end)

  1. Wow, yikes! I am scared to get mine out one day. I hope the doctor’s are wrong when they say I should have it out eventually!

    I can relate to your ice water craving… when I was in the hospital with food poisoning, I was begging for it, crying for it… Julie did sneak me a Dasani, which was like drinking the finest champagne!

    Glad you’re feeling better now. I know Blue was watching over you!

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