So, last year, a few months before the wedding I had my first ever gall stone attack. While it may sound like someone was standing nearby, attacking me with stones, it is much, much, much worse. As in I wish I was dead because this pain is the most horrific thing I've ever experienced pain. I was back home, at my parent's for a visit when the little buggers decided to make their presence known at 3 a.m. At first I thought it was another kidney stone. I'm on a first name basis with my kidney stones considering they've been showing up, uninvited I might add, since I was 23. Bastards. They don't even offer to bring any wine.
But I've gotten off track. Where was I? Oh yeah, gall stones. So after it was determined that was what woke me up out of a dead sleep the doctors in the ER told me to watch what I eat and make sure if it happens again to get it checked out. Fine. I left with a prescription for percocet and was a happy camper. Not more than a month and a half later, exactly 6 weeks out from the wedding, I had another gall stone attack. This time I was at home and attempted to just deal with the pain. Yeah, well, at 4 a.m. when I thought I couldn't handle it anymore I whispered to Will that I was driving myself to the ER and started heading for the door. He jumped out of bed, grabbed his clothes and got me there in record time. Again, it was confirmed that it was my gall bladder again, but since it wasn't infected they weren't taking it out that day. The ER doctor told me to have it taken out as soon as possible, and I was quite alright with that.
The surgeon they recommended to me had another opinion. I had 3 or 4 office visits with a HIDA scan to top it off. After all of that, he sat me down and told me he couldn't take the offending organ out. I wasn't quite sure what to make of this. It was giving me problems, right? Shouldn't it be taken out? The surgeon said no. The stones weren't effecting the functionality of the gall bladder, so it could stay. Even though every time I eat something with the slightest bit of fat or spice, I have stomach issues for a day or two. I felt like I had a ticking time bomb in my body.
Fast forward to last weekend. Will was at his parent's for the weekend and I was home alone. At 3 a.m. on Saturday morning my gall bladder decided to remind me it was there and I was in the ER, again. This time the ER doctor asked who I saw for a surgeon and when I told her she said he was on call and proceeded to call him and let him know I was there. Again, it wasn't infected so no dice on it coming out that morning.
I'm scheduled for an appointment this week to do the preliminary stuff to get the gall bladder removed. This time it needs to come out because I swear to the high heavens, if it doesn't I'm getting the large chef's knife from the kitchen and doing it myself. I'm tired of not being able to do what I want or eat what I want because of this little, inconsequential organ deciding to act a fool.