Surgery

On February 24th I had surgery to remove my gall bladder. The weeks leading up to it were not the cheeriest. Not only did I have the surgery looming, but I had to stick to a ridiculously low-fat diet to avoid more gall bladder attacks. I was trying to keep my meals to 5 grams of fat or less. To give you an idea of how difficult that is, consider that most sliced bread has a couple grams of fat per slice. An egg has 5 grams of fat. Ground turkey, the leanest of lean meat, has 8+ grams of fat per serving. Even vegetarian food was sometimes problematic. Many recipes start with two tablespoons of olive oil, which together contain nearly 30 grams of fat. And, as I discovered, even beans have fat in them.

So I was perpetually hungry. I was grouchy. And I was plagued by the idea that I had reached the end of my natural life. Science would save me, but then I would be living on borrowed time. If that idea had lit a fire under my ass and forced me to get moving on some of my life’s goals, then it could have been beneficial. But simply dwelling on the thought did me no good.

I have since tried to change my thinking about the surgery. I am looking at it as a tax that I had to pay to continue with life as usual. I’m used to paying taxes. They’re a nuisance, but they’re a normal part of life. You pay them and you move on.

As for the surgery itself, it went well. The admitting process was so quick that I had no time to fret. Before I knew it, I was in a bed and had sedative dripping into my IV. I barely had time to say good-bye to my husband before they wheeled me into the OR. My last memories are of faceless people arranging my arms and throwing blankets over me, and of a mask being placed near my face.

When I woke up, I felt horrible. Such a pain I had in my abdomen. The nurse gave me Tylenol, but it did nothing. Then she gave me Dilaudid, for which I am eternally grateful. That kept me pain-free for the entire afternoon and most of the evening, allowing me to get through all the obstacles that lay between the hospital and my comfy bed at home.

Sadly, though, the Dilaudid spoiled me. The combination of Advil and Vicodin that was prescribed to me wasn’t even enough to kill the headache that I got (most likely) from reading too much while I recuperated. I thought wistfully of the Dilaudid many times over the next few days.

But the pain didn’t last long. By the end of the week, I was pretty much back to normal. Now, nearly two weeks later, my incisions are almost healed and I’m feeling fine. I haven’t taken any pain meds in a couple of days. I almost returned to work a few days early, but the idea of sitting at my desk, compressing my abdomen for long hours, did not appeal. Monday will be soon enough.

Now I just have to hope that my body can adjust to the lack of a gall bladder. Most people are able to return to their former diets with ease. I am sincerely hoping to be part of the majority in this case!