Thursday, July 20th, 2006
Just look what happens when I ask a question and then disappear for a week: a firestorm of debate over the merits of big-box vs. Rejuvenation light fixtures.
Meanwhile, you might be wondering where I disappeared to. For the past couple of months, I’ve been having periodic “attacks.” Severe abdominal pain, then vomiting, chills and sweating. Fun times.
Just so you know, I HATE talking about stuff like this. I hate when people regale me with the details of their latest medical ailments, and I don’t like thinking about the inner workings of my body or anyone else’s. Indulge me this once, and I promise I won’t bring it up again!
I’d been self-treating with Pepsid and other antacids (and trying to avoid offending foods, though I couldn’t discern much of a pattern) since the symptoms sounded similar to acid reflux disease and/or a stomach ulcer.
My mom all along maintained that it was my gall bladder; she had hers out 10 years ago and said my attacks sounded just like hers. But being a daughter and myself, I couldn’t listen to her advice. That would go against nature.
Then suddenly the Pepsid stopped working. This weekend the attacks decided to escalate from every two weeks to every few hours. Not cool!
I finally let Darwin take me to the emergency room Monday morning. Of course, the latest attack miraculously disappeared on the way there, and other than the pitiful lack of magazines in the waiting room, I was perfectly chipper. Somehow, smiling and smacking gum while you describe your unbearable pain is not as convincing.
The doc confirmed my acid reflux/ulcer suspicions without doing any actual tests and prescribed me Prevacid. Just to rule out gall bladder, she set me up an appointment for an ultrasound the next day.
But I bet you have guessed the ending to this story already. The ultrasound found unpleasant things happening to my gall bladder.
The same doctor from the previous day referred me to a surgeon and told me to keep taking my Prevacid just in case.
My mom pulled some strings (she knows everyone in town or knows someone who does) and got me an appointment on Monday. She learned from her inside source at the surgeon’s office that I probably will have to have surgery to remove the offending gall bladder. Goodie.
I really really hate having health problems. Not that anyone loves it. It’s just such an inconvenience, and I HATE needles, and I HATE people asking me questions about my internal organs and warning me about how being without a gall bladder affects one’s bodily functions.
Still, the concern amongst family, friends and co-workers has been comforting. When I came back to work today for the first time this week, my boss grinned and said, “I’m so glad you’re back!” and I knew he meant it. Golly gee, I feel so appreciated!
It almost makes up for the fact that I had to spend my 25th birthday at the hospital reading Tuscaloosa Christian Family magazine.