(Pictured Above: The purple organ in the middle is my gallbladder. The red organ above that is my liver. That yellow stuff cradling the gallbladder is a soft protective pillow of fat. How about that? You can see more pictures if you click here.
This is the most descriptive picture I have. It's the only one taken inside my body. The rest are either of me before the surgery, the doc holding my gallbladder in his hand, and one of my incisions. So don't fret about checking them out.)
This is the most descriptive picture I have. It's the only one taken inside my body. The rest are either of me before the surgery, the doc holding my gallbladder in his hand, and one of my incisions. So don't fret about checking them out.)
I had to have my gallbladder removed. It was only functioning at 12 percent. That is, when it fills up it is supposed to empty at 30 percent or so. Mine was only emptying at 12 percent. So it had to go. No stones to speak of, so that is good. I’ve been having a large amount of pain over the last year and the thinking is that it is due to the gallbladder. It’s too early to tell because I hurt all over right now.
Laparoscopic surgery is the way to go. The recovery time is much less and the pain is quite tolerable. I was up and slowly puttering about the house all day on Tuesday after the surgery. I was sore and groggy but I could move a bit.
Monday (the day before the surgery) 4:30 p.m.
I had received no information on my surgery time as of yet. I called the doctor’s office to find out my surgery time for the next morning. I was told that this is typical procedure and not to worry. I got my time to show up the next day: 5:30 a.m. That is early, but I’m used to getting up before the crows.
Tuesday – Surgery Day 5:30 a.m.
I showed up at admitting and there was a wait. A wait at the crack of God? Come to find out they have 22 surgery rooms on the third floor of the hospital. Seems like a lot to me. No wonder they have a hard time scheduling everyone’s surgeries.
5:45 a.m.
I was led into a room to dress into the new fall line of hospital gowns. I found that the new ecru colored gowns complimented my mood well and was appropriate for the morning’s event. The fashion guru’s of What Not To Wear would have been proud of color choice but would have found fault with the fit. The first one was a Large and wouldn’t even go over my shoulders. The next gown was a mammoth moo moo, but at least it covered my backside with no gaps for the gals.
6 a.m.
The nurse came in to the room to check my blood sugar and ask me a host of questions that every other person in the hospital would also ask me. I discovered that she wasn’t in the mood for any shenanigans, but she got some anyway. When she stuck me in the finger to test my blood sugar I yelped like a dog whose tail just got run over by a 3-year-old on a tricycle. She jumped and just apologized all over herself; explaining that they have to use the larger, square pen needles because some people have tough skin. I just smiled.
Of course my peanut gallery was giggling and hiding their eyes out of embarrassment. She slugged me and kept on smiling. If you’re going to be cut on, you might as well have fun with it. You know, I don’t think she ever came back to check on me after that.
6:30 a.m.
The orderly came to wheel me away to the anesthesia barn. With 22 surgery rooms the anesthesia holding tank is some kind of huge barn-like room – rows and columns of cows lined up ready to have their teats connected and milked.
Sure enough Farmer Millie, Farmer Susan and Farmer Brown all asked me the same questions in succession. The funny part was they were all three standing next to my bed at the same time. Millie asked then left. Susan asked the same questions as she prepped my prepped and ran a line into my arm. She was a heck of a farmer. Typically the stickers have to jab me several times, pulling and pushing the needle in and out to get the vein. Farmer Susie knew what she was doing. She numbed the hand first before sticking me and she nailed it the first time. I like Farmer Susie. She walked off and the head drug doc took her place and asked the same questions she did. Redundancy is safety. After that I just waited, watching them hook up the other heifers until my doctor came for me.
They took my glasses away so I wasn’t able to see the clock or follow the time, but I can estimate it pretty well.
7:15 a.m.
Laparoscopic surgery is the way to go. The recovery time is much less and the pain is quite tolerable. I was up and slowly puttering about the house all day on Tuesday after the surgery. I was sore and groggy but I could move a bit.
Monday (the day before the surgery) 4:30 p.m.
I had received no information on my surgery time as of yet. I called the doctor’s office to find out my surgery time for the next morning. I was told that this is typical procedure and not to worry. I got my time to show up the next day: 5:30 a.m. That is early, but I’m used to getting up before the crows.
Tuesday – Surgery Day 5:30 a.m.
I showed up at admitting and there was a wait. A wait at the crack of God? Come to find out they have 22 surgery rooms on the third floor of the hospital. Seems like a lot to me. No wonder they have a hard time scheduling everyone’s surgeries.
5:45 a.m.
I was led into a room to dress into the new fall line of hospital gowns. I found that the new ecru colored gowns complimented my mood well and was appropriate for the morning’s event. The fashion guru’s of What Not To Wear would have been proud of color choice but would have found fault with the fit. The first one was a Large and wouldn’t even go over my shoulders. The next gown was a mammoth moo moo, but at least it covered my backside with no gaps for the gals.
6 a.m.
The nurse came in to the room to check my blood sugar and ask me a host of questions that every other person in the hospital would also ask me. I discovered that she wasn’t in the mood for any shenanigans, but she got some anyway. When she stuck me in the finger to test my blood sugar I yelped like a dog whose tail just got run over by a 3-year-old on a tricycle. She jumped and just apologized all over herself; explaining that they have to use the larger, square pen needles because some people have tough skin. I just smiled.
Of course my peanut gallery was giggling and hiding their eyes out of embarrassment. She slugged me and kept on smiling. If you’re going to be cut on, you might as well have fun with it. You know, I don’t think she ever came back to check on me after that.
6:30 a.m.
The orderly came to wheel me away to the anesthesia barn. With 22 surgery rooms the anesthesia holding tank is some kind of huge barn-like room – rows and columns of cows lined up ready to have their teats connected and milked.
Sure enough Farmer Millie, Farmer Susan and Farmer Brown all asked me the same questions in succession. The funny part was they were all three standing next to my bed at the same time. Millie asked then left. Susan asked the same questions as she prepped my prepped and ran a line into my arm. She was a heck of a farmer. Typically the stickers have to jab me several times, pulling and pushing the needle in and out to get the vein. Farmer Susie knew what she was doing. She numbed the hand first before sticking me and she nailed it the first time. I like Farmer Susie. She walked off and the head drug doc took her place and asked the same questions she did. Redundancy is safety. After that I just waited, watching them hook up the other heifers until my doctor came for me.
They took my glasses away so I wasn’t able to see the clock or follow the time, but I can estimate it pretty well.
7:15 a.m.
They wheeled me down to the surgery room – a tile room with lots of machines just haphazardly scattered about. We chatted for a bit. I asked the doc if he could let me have the gallbladder in the Mason jar I brought along. He agreed to take pictures for me and that appeased me. I reminded them sawbones which side the gallbladder was on, at which point they had their fill of me and put me down.
Sometime thereafter
The surgery only took about 20 minutes, as I was told later. I woke up hard from the surgery. I don’t care for the feeling right after you wake up from anesthesia. Fortunately it goes away in seconds as I gain my faculties. I don’t really remember it, so maybe my faculties were not really about me, but they wheeled me back into my original room where my family was waiting for me.
By that time I was ready to get up and empty my utter out and walk around. They let me use the little cow’s room, but didn’t indulge my desire to explore the hallways. If I was going to fall it had to be on my own property. Somewhere in there I must have gotten dressed back in my own clothes but I don’t remember it. I do know they wheeled me out in a wheelchair sized to fit a king of my stature. It was very kind of them to not cram me into a skinny chair. To the homestead I went.
Since then I’ve been home recovering and working on homework. You see, Thursday and Friday of this week is fall break, but don’t assume that means anything to our instructors. They have no respect for the concept of break. I have two novels to read, two papers to write, two midterms to study for, and other various assignments due. Surgery or no surgery, everything is due Monday and Tuesday so I am doing my best. Good thing that I am recovering so quickly or I would be screwed come next week.
I’ve had lots of help at home as both my wife and Mom are home. Good thing to because we’ve had lots of visitors and phone calls. I’m not complaining about that. It was nice. I have been going a bit stir crazy between resting and homework.
Sometime thereafter
The surgery only took about 20 minutes, as I was told later. I woke up hard from the surgery. I don’t care for the feeling right after you wake up from anesthesia. Fortunately it goes away in seconds as I gain my faculties. I don’t really remember it, so maybe my faculties were not really about me, but they wheeled me back into my original room where my family was waiting for me.
By that time I was ready to get up and empty my utter out and walk around. They let me use the little cow’s room, but didn’t indulge my desire to explore the hallways. If I was going to fall it had to be on my own property. Somewhere in there I must have gotten dressed back in my own clothes but I don’t remember it. I do know they wheeled me out in a wheelchair sized to fit a king of my stature. It was very kind of them to not cram me into a skinny chair. To the homestead I went.
Since then I’ve been home recovering and working on homework. You see, Thursday and Friday of this week is fall break, but don’t assume that means anything to our instructors. They have no respect for the concept of break. I have two novels to read, two papers to write, two midterms to study for, and other various assignments due. Surgery or no surgery, everything is due Monday and Tuesday so I am doing my best. Good thing that I am recovering so quickly or I would be screwed come next week.
I’ve had lots of help at home as both my wife and Mom are home. Good thing to because we’ve had lots of visitors and phone calls. I’m not complaining about that. It was nice. I have been going a bit stir crazy between resting and homework.
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2 comments:
Well, now I can call you a yellow-belly with cause and proof.
You arn't related to VD(J) are you?
PS ... surely you have never been a chicken farmer because the gizzard is a muscular organ above the stomach to gring up hard food .. like chat, that chickens eat.
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