I’m currently trying to sort the hundreds of either unread or ignored emails that are resting in my inbox, but I’m slightly ADD so I figured I’d update this beautiful little blog.
Last Friday night, I wound up in the hospital for seven hours thanks to a gallbladder attack – my first one ever. I got to have my blood taken, and sit around in various levels of pain, and I had my first sonogram. I was kind of hoping the first time that’d happen would be because I’d be pregnant with the man of my dreams (well, with his kid, not with him)… but I’m learning really quickly that life never, ever turns out the way we plan.
Anyway, the lone, solitary doctor on call informed me that my gallbladder is full of stones, but it isn’t blocked, so I’d have to talk to my doctor about whether or not I should have it removed… a perky blonde nurse came in and gave me discharge papers (for the wrong person, I might add — I’m pretty sure Brandy was the other girl who came in on a wheelchair just before me, doubled over and bawling with stomach pain)… I had a prescription for percocet (which I didn’t fill, by the way)… and I got to go home and go to sleep in my own bed.
On top of gallstones, I got a gigantic headcold from work. So, Saturday-Tuesday I pretty much just stayed in bed obsessively watching Doctor Who on Netflix (best show ever!) on my Xbox, and drinking a ton of apple juice.
Monday I saw my doctor, who told me that the best thing would be to have my gallbladder removed. He told me that if I don’t, I could have these attacks at any point, and probably will. He referred me to a surgeon’s office, and after a urine sample, he sent me on my way. On the way to drop my sister off to meet her friend, Mom and I got a flat tire. We waited for forty minutes for my grandfather to come and help us, because my dad was over an hour away at work. After that, we came home, watched a Judging Amy rerun, and then I got my blood taken by a really nice, very young redheaded boy who had a feminine lisp and told me he “loves this job”. I’m really glad, because he didn’t leave a gigantic bruise like the ER nurse did.
This evening my doctor called me with the blood test results, apparently my liver enzymes were elevated again and he wants more blood work done on Monday… so that should be super. Then Tuesday, I meet with the surgeon to discuss my gallbladder being cut outta me. I’m ready. I’ve done nothing but worry for a straight week, and if having the little jerk snipped and pulled out of me is going to allow me to eat corn on the cob without fear of being doubled over and unable to inhale fully because of the pain… well, I think it’s a fair trade.
I think this just goes to show that being an adult is kind of a pain in the rear end. And I’m not a fan. And that whenever I get too comfortable with my life, something random and crazy happens.
In addition to all this, the week before last my grandfather officially began wearing diapers because he is so out of it he doesn’t know when he’s going to the bathroom. I’m pretty sure he’s dying, and that’s really depressing. I haven’t been thinking about it because frankly, I’ve been way too neurotic and obsessive about my own health issues. On top of this never-ending headcold, and thinking too much about my gallbladder full of gross rocks, it’s that special time of the month again! Man, I’m ready for September, because so far August blows. I don’t even care that my birthday is next week. Welcome to adulthood… even though I’m already turning twenty-two, and I should get this point already.
The good news is, I’ve already lost twenty pounds just since June 1st. (The sucky part is, that’s another thing that agitates your gallbladder – rapid weight loss.) I’m doing it the healthy way, too. Watching what I eat, exercising a lot… I’m going to win The Biggest Loser at work, unless someone miraculously beats me in the next few weeks of weigh-ins… I’d feel way more triumphant if everything else wasn’t so frustrating this week. Ha.
I’m just a bit blue. It’s funny, last week before all of this happened I was looking into getting a newer car, because mine is acting up a lot again. It’s always something else it seems with Chewie, so I was searching for Chewie II… and now I’m going to have big, fat medical bills to take care of.
I’m just freaking tired. I know it could be a lot worse, and so many people are worse off than I am. I’m just discouraged.