THE ABSOLUTE GALL

As you know, I had weight loss surgery in December of 2021. It wasn't a particularly radical one or anything, having my stomach size reduced by 80% notwithstanding, but I chose to have the kind I did because of the low instances of recurring, unpleasant side effects. At most I lost about 90 pounds, then put a few back on (feck), but other than that the whole process has been fairly uneventful.  

However, there was one possible side effect that I was warned about from the beginning, and it was that my gallbladder might go bad. I didn't know what they meant, medically, by "going bad" but at my periodic appointments with the surgeon, I was told that if I had any problems with it to call them right away.  "Sure thing" I thought! "How will I know if it's going bad?" I also thought. Turns out it's fairly easy to know. 

Thankfully, I didn't get into a situation where I was being rushed into the emergency room or anything like that, but when the twinges began in earnest, I got an appointment. They sent me to have an ultrasound, and a hida scan, which is where I was injected with radioactive tracer and parked under something that looked like a time machine and left for an hour and a half. When it was done, I was asked by Austin, the radiologist who looked like he was still in high school but who has a 4 year old, if I had any issues. There was a minor twinge, I said. Tell your doctor, he said. So, I did.

Apparently, if you feel anything at all during the hida scan, that means you probably have trouble. You can live with the trouble and let it get worse, or you can have the gall bladder taken out. I opted to have it taken out so that I didn't have to feel like whoever it is who has my voodoo doll (I know who it is!) was constantly sticking a pin into my side. What I didn't realize was that the doctor was going to want to do it the next day. He had a graduation to go to over the weekend, after all, and didn't want to miss it. 

I was weirdly ok with that, because I didn't have time to get nervous about anything, and so the next morning I went to the surgery center and had that sucker ripped out. It wasn't a bad surgery, it didn't take a long time, and the worst part was the CO2 gas that they inflated by abdomen with hurting like a MFKR afterwards. Steve gave me my phone while I was still pretty high from the anesthesia, and I answered some texts, so it was fun reading those later. One of my friends sent me some funny memes that made me laugh, and that hurt, but otherwise, I went home just a couple of hours later.

The doctor told me that some people are up fixing dinner later the day of the surgery, and some of them "complain for the next six weeks" and I was determined to be the former. I did fix dinner that night, although I didn't eat it. Dude, my side HURT. It felt like I'd been shot by a harpoon. Also, he said I had a rogue gallstone lodged in an organ or tube or something that would need a second procedure to remove and had me set up for that. However, the second doc had me get an MRI the next day, which didn't show anything concerning, and that procedure was cancelled, thank goodness. The description of that second procedure sounded 100 times worse than the surgery I'd just had, so thank you MRI gods! The surgery was on a Wednesday, and I did take one day off of work, and then had the weekend. I went to a soccer game that Saturday, which was really stupid because I felt like I was being stabbed, but by Monday I was more or less ok. It still hurt and I was so very tired, but I was ok. No one at work would let me do anything, though. I'm not supposed to lift anything heavy or do anything strenuous until my follow up appointment. Even the CEO basically took something out of my hands and did it for me when she saw me about to do something she didn't think I should have. I've realized that I don't like people doing work I should be doing, and I'm not at all good at asking for help, so I'm glad these people are looking out for me.  

I was in quite a bit of pain for about a week, and then I laughed and something in my side popped and then didn't hurt as much. I don't know if that's good or bad, but at least I didn't have to take pain meds after that! The worst part, post-surgery, is learning what I can and can't eat anymore. Some things do nothing; other things feel like lava racing through my body. I hear that gets better. Maybe? God, I hope so.

Now for my next trick, I have to go see a cardiologist. During my ultrasound, they found I have slight pericardial effusion, or fluid around my heart. Thankfully it isn't that bad, but it was suggested that I get it looked at to make sure. Part of me wants to not find out about it, but the rational side knows I need to. So, I'm going to have to get the courage to call that guy. I will. One day. Maybe. 

So that's the most exciting thing that's happened to me in about a year. I hope whatever is going on with you is better than that and doesn't require any incisions!

UPDATE

Hello. 

It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?

I didn’t feel like writing here for a long time. In fact, I almost shuttered the whole thing. Something stopped me, though.

Things got bad. Very bad. Maybe the worst they’ve ever been for me so far, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure I’d survive it. But I did. Granted, I’m a bit battle scarred, but still here.

The divorce didn’t happen. I genuinely thought it would. I was terrified. I told people. I started making plans and trying to figure out what I was going to do, but ultimately, we didn’t do it. It hasn’t been easy, and things are still a bit raw in spots, but we came out on the other side.

I was too afraid to say anything just in case. I still am, a little. But I decided that maybe someone might want to know.

Lots of things have changed in the past year. I’ve lost people who meant the world to me, and I’ve had to learn to adjust, but I’m ok for now.

Things are still strange, but I’m grateful for what I have. We’ll see what happens.

I hope you’re well, too.

SO...

Well, I don't like to write this, but to make it seem real, I'm going to.

Steve is divorcing me. He told me last Thursday.

I didn't want this, and for all intents and purposes, I didn't think it would actually happen. I thought things would get better, or at least we'd work on our problems. In fact, I thought we'd been doing better for the last couple of months. That is because I am a trusting, naive fool.

I am not worth being forgiven. I am to be thrown away.

No idea on the timeline, or where I'll live, or how I'll mentally deal with it, but those are all things I'll consider later. 

There are a million things I will have to think to do, but I'm not in the right frame of mind to think of anything. Right now I'm having to make myself do one thing at a time just to get through the days.

I can't eat, I have to drug myself to sleep, and my life is now a giant crater where a bomb has gone off and nothing has survived. I am barely hanging on to my sanity.

So, while everyone else gets to go and live their best life, mine has been broken beyond repair. All over a mistake so stupid that I can't even believe I was idiotic enough to make in the first place.

I don't know how I'm going to survive.

HUH...WEIRD

If you don't mind, I'm going to ignore everything else in my life for a second to tell you a weird thing that happened the other night.

I was asleep, but not completely asleep, and my phone rang. I looked at the clock and immediately panicked, because it was 12:30 AM, which (in my head) usually means that someone is dead and I'm getting a call about it. I jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen to grab my phone, and the ringing stopped. The screen said "No Caller ID" and no one left a message.

Well, ok then. Maybe a spam call? Maybe a wrong number? Mabe a glitch? Eh.

But still...it scared the crap out of me! I don't have friends I chat with anymore. No one calls me but my mom! I was asleep-ish and my phone rang at a scary hour! So I had to stand there staring at my phone for a second until my adrenaline rush passed.

Then the phone rang again while I was holding it. Still "No Caller ID" on the screen. Of course, I answered it, just in case it really was an emergency, and I could hear someone on the other end. They wouldn't say anything! I just kept saying "Hello?!" over and over, but they never talked, I just heard rustling and movement.

I didn't find out until the next day that someone has to purposefully conceal their number to get a "No Caller ID" message on the display. Whether or not the person meant to call me and not someone in a kinder time zone is the real question.

Maybe it was nothing, and the call wasn't meant for me. Occam's razor and all of that.

But am I wrong to think that is weird? Not, you know, super weird, but still weird. Anyway, if someone wants to call me and not say anything when I answer, I'm ok with that. They can even be obscene if they want, because I can just hang up or laugh (depending on the level of obscene.) I just don't want them to do it in the middle of the night and scare me into thinking someone in my family has been killed. Capiche?  

THERE ARE PROTOCOLS. Geez.

NOPE

Nope. I was wrong. 

Back to square one.

I’m so tired.

FYI

Things are currently…ok. 

Not perfect, not awesome, but a bit better. Working on it, at least.

It’s been a long, fecking few months, though. 

We’ll see how it goes.

I’m so damn tired.

 Have you ever just given up? I think I’m there. I don’t want to be there, but I don’t have a choice.

Again, sorry to be cryptic, but it’s still not my story to tell.

I made some mistakes that made things bad. Everything I try to do to help makes things worse. It’s like I’m trying to stop a tsunami with a net.

Everything is black. There isn’t any hope and I am drowning. This is just life now. I’m not being melodramatic.

I’m not sure prayers work anymore, but if you have a few lying around you don’t need, I could use one.