Saturday, July 13, 2013

Sassyfats vs The Cheesesteak

Hello, world. Have to warn you up front: I'm writing this post on my phone and I had heavy narcotics last night. There will be typos & misspellings & run-on sentences. Grammar nazis: You have been warned.

Yesterday I had a very delicious Philly cheesesteak from a food truck in DC. Since it was a payday and I was hungry, I also sprung for the seasoned fries & Diet Coke. Yes, I'm one of those weirdos that drinks diet soda with their thousand-calorie meals. Not saying it makes logical sense, just that it makes sense to me. Don't be hatin'. 

Anywho, shortly after lunch I started to feel discomfort in my midsection. Believe it or not, I don't usually eat heavy meals like that. No really, I don't. I used to, I won't lie. But it's been a long time since my last steak & cheese & seasoned fries meal. So indigestion made sense to me. I figured I'd eventually burp & feel better. 

But the pressure in my belly kept getting worse, until the point that pressure became pain. So then I figured a rogue bubble was making its way through my tunnel system, and it would eventually escape through the exit hatch in a window-rattling blast of unhappy air. I considered offering a gas mask to my office mate so he'd be fully prepared, but I wasn't quite sure how to bring up the subject. So I just hoped the thunder from down under would wait until he was out of the room. 

But there was never any thunder. The pain kept intensifying, until I was pretty sure my gallbladder was being all complainy. See, several weeks ago I got an MRI for my back pain. The radiologist saw some enlarged lymph nodes so recommended I get an abdominal CT scan for a better look. When I got the CT scan they saw that the lymph nodes were OK, but oh lookie here, you have gallstones. Since I wasn't having any symptoms, I scheduled my surgical consultation for August. I'm a busy woman, and I have a vacation to take on my birthday week. Priorities. 

Ah yes. My birthday. I am staring down the barrel of the Big Four Oh, and my body is celebrating by falling apart. Way to make me feel youthful, Body. Asshole.  

Where was I? Oh yeah, gallstones. Since yesterday's searing pain was right where the Dr. said my gallbladder lives, and since the pain was so bad I didn't want to breathe, I realized my gallbladder was attacking me because it hates me. On the bright side, the timing of my gallbladder attack made me feel just like The Bloggess, minus the successful writing career. But Jenny Lawson is so super awesome that I was honored to have a gallbladder attack the day after she had hers removed. I don't know how to do links on this iPhone app, so you'll just have to go piece together the reference here:

The bus ride out of DC was more interesting than usual. When you feel like you're being skewered by a hot poker, it's hard to sit still. It's also hard not to moan. Nobody seemed to notice because they'd all spent the day downtown too and were conditioned to ignore people acting strangely in their peripheral vision. Also, earbuds. But that's ok because I really didn't feel like answering any questions. Societal oblivion to human suffering worked in my favor. 

Miracle Man picked me up at the park & ride lot and took me straight to the ER, where I perfected the art of writhing in pain and not giving a shit what the other people in the waiting room might think. I was at about a 9 on the pain scale, which previous life experience has taught me that that's when it's time to push the baby out. Only this time there was no baby, and I don't know how to push a gallbladder out. I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't an option.

When they FINALLY got me settled in a bed and asked me lots of questions and pushed on my belly (ouch) and got an IV placed, they introduced me to my new best friend. Dilauded. Holy shnikies, is that stuff good!! Not only did it take the pain away, but it made me feel all warm and happy and full of love for all mankind. It also provided some entertainment for Miracle Man because in the 30 years we've known each other he's only seen me impaired a couple of other times. We're not drinkers so we haven't had any drunken encounters. When I was in labor with Em I got staidol, which is some good shit. And a few weeks ago when I got a cortisone shot in my wonky back there was a narcotic in the cocktail that gave me a very mellow afternoon. 

They sent me home last night because they determined they did not need to yank my gallbladder out right that second, but told me to come back today for more testing. So here I am, once again, taking up ER space and waiting my turn in the nuclear study room. Will definitely post pics if I glow in the dark later. No food, drink, or pain meds until after the test though. Luckily my pain isn't as bad as it was last night. Also, I told the nurse I didn't want to develop a full-blown opiate addiction this weekend so I could wait awhile for the happy juice. 

Not really sure how to end this post other than to assure you I will be ok, ask you to refrain from handing me a redlined copy of my writing just this once, and proclaim that dilauded is awesome and the world would be a much better place if we could just put some of that in our coffee every morning. The End.

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