And once again, here I sit...recuperating. Funny how Life goes at times, isn't it? You get one problem cleared up and you think that'll be the end of that. Then you get another health problem and you hope as you go along that it will be the end of that. Only to go to bed one evening, eating dinner too late and taking medication on a hastily-filled stomach just before bedtime and having a belly ache all nite long. OK. That's happened many times in the past so you don't think much about it, just hope you'll feel better by morning before the grandbabies show up around 5:30. You get up at 3, not able to toss and turn in bed any more. You don't feel better. You don't feel worse. But you wonder how on earth you're going to make it thru a long, busy day. By 10 am you feel so crummy you call your Dear Hubby at work and ask beg Dear Hubby to try and make it home around noon because you're still feeling really bad. And he arrives home a little after 12, finding you with tear stains still wet on your cheeks from the mini-meltdown you'd had just before he got there, too sick and too wiped out to deal with anything anymore. He tells you to go lie down with Dylan and take a nap, he'll stay with Cooper. You go and lie down. Dylan falls asleep cuddled next to you. And you know you're going to be sick. So you head to the bathroom and boy, are you sick!! And you head out to the living room around 2 and tell Dear Hubby you have got to go to the hospital....you don't know what's wrong but you know it's getting worse. By this time it feels as if daggers are being shoved into the area just below your right breast and your rib cage, over and over and over again. You are doubled over from the pain. He calls your daughter-in-law to come get the kids and, once she arrives, you rush to the hospital. By 4 you are admitted, a surgeon is contacted, and you're sent up to your room to wait for an opening in the operating room schedule. By this time, on a pain scale of 1 to 10, you are at 15. You find out the surgery can't be done until some time the next day, probably in the early evening. There were two emergency gall bladder cases that came in before yours that also needed to be scheduled. In the meantime, the nursing staff does everything it can to keep you as comfortable as they can but, even with mega-doses of morphine, your pain level never drops below 5 or 6. You're in a blurry never-world that is consumed by pain. You can't think, you can barely lift your head. The morphine has you thinking crazy thoughts, making you think you're speaking loudly and clearly when all you're doing is mumbling in some drug-laden mumbo-jumbo. By the time the operating tech comes to pick you up for your surgery around 7 the next evening you're almost out of your mind with pain. And after waiting another half hour as they set up the operating room, you're finally wheeled in for surgery. You remember telling Dear Hubby and your son goodbye, the automatic doors swing open, and the next thing you hear is "Mrs. S, your surgery's over. It's time for you to wake up." And you open your eyes and the first thing you realize is...the pain is gone. Finally. Blessedly. What discomfort there is from the surgery is just a scratch in the belly compared to that firebrand that seared your insides for the past 24 hours.
And, I was home by 3:30 this afternoon. Loaded down with narcotics and anti-inflammatory medication...but home.
And you should see the size of my one gall stone.
I kid you not. It's the size of a small hen's egg. It's almost as large as the gall bladder itself! When my surgeon had come in to speak to me last nite after the surgery, he said it was "This big" and made a circle about the size of a marble. I thought that was impressive! But when the Pathologist brought it in to me this afternoon and told Dear Hubby and me it was a 'record breaker', she wasn't kidding. I could NOT believe the size of that thing but, from all the pain I endured, I wasn't surprised.
And I already feel a gazillion, billion times better. My whole system feels better. The surgeon said that was one angry-looking gall bladder he removed and he wouldn't be surprised if it'd been poisoning my body for a long time and that it's where a lot of these post-hysterectomy problms have come from.
So now it's gone.
And I'm home.
And I love each and every one of you who've left me comments and sent up prayers and good thoughts for me. I felt them all.
Thank you. And God bless each and every one of you.