This is a new Ruby mini-series,"When Gall Bladders Go Bad"

Episode 1: The Surprising Colon

I am drowsing through the colonoscopy in "twilight sleep." When all of the sudden I just I wake up screaming. They gave me one pain shot and I continued to scream. So they gave me a second one, and I continued to scream. The doctor stopped the colonoscopy. Apparently, they were passing my gall bladder at the time.

Episode 2: The Diagnosis

This part of the things included an hour and a half on a slab while they chemically signalled my liver to produce bile and then chemically signalled my gall bladder do dump bile:

Basically, the white indicates bile distribution in the liver and the very white places at the bottom are kind of my small intestine and my gall bladder. My gall bladder shouldn't be bright white. It should look more diffuse like the stuff above.

So, all that yummy delicious radioactive crap they gave me to get my gall bladder to show on the purty picture made me sick as hell from that moment on.

Episode 3: Removal of the Scourge of Ruby's Digestive System -- Gall Bladder Gone

The surgery, I was told would take 45 minutes tops, but mine took 1 hour and 45 minutes. Apparently, the doctor was trying to keep it laprascopic and because my gall bladder was pretty wedged in there and swollen he had a hard time getting to the little bugger. He put some clamps on the bile duct and left a drainage bag in me. After a day or so, my drainage bag began to fill with bile, like instead of my small intestine. Our heroine is rather discouraged to discover, that unfortunately, that was a bad thing. Yeah, like with my healthy history I'm surprised by this? Not even a little.

Episode 4: Change of Venue

So, they transferred me to the hospital via ambulance with about the roughest bastard paramedics I've ever met in my life. I swear they were just freaking pummelling me over every freaking bump they could, just to hear me scream. It's one thing in sex. It's another after a crappy tummy surgery. And they didn't apologize. Not even once. Even the nurse who rode with me was suprised they were such heathens and asked them several times to take it easy. Assholes. When they finally bill me, I'm going to call them up and bitch. And no, I haven't forgiven them. I mean, I had to pay for that fun!

And the fun didn't end there!

Oh, no.

Episode 5: The Stint of the Stent

So in my new bed at the hospital instead of the surgical center, I am told I am first on the schedule to have a stent put in by my GI guys. The stent basically is a tube they put in your bile duct so that the bile goes through that until the place where the clamps were leaking can heal on its own. I go back in to get that removed in a couple months.

So, I'm fasting. I get told at 2PM that my 130 time has been pushed. I'm irritated, hungry, but I suck it up and wait. At 345 PM, they come in to get me. I'm seeing one of guys who was at the colonoscopy and I'm feeling comforted about a friendly face. I'm about to get pushed into a second elevator. An officious lady come up and says, my thing has been pushed. We all piss and moan.

I get my first meal of the day at 430. The doctor originally orders clear fluid diet I beg him for soft foods, and he relents. I snarf what I can...which aint much.

Then I'm mad. I'm paying 10% of that day at the hospital for a delay that was not my fault at all. Piss on them. I call my mother to tell her that things have been delayed and she can't begin to understand why I'm in a bear of a mood. Other than I'm fucking hungry, low sugar and being charged for the fucking privilege? OOoh. No reason. I tell her I don't wish to discuss it further with her and that we'll call her after the stent thing occurs.

I get the stent in the day after at 130pm sharp. The same guy I know is there and and they try to discharge me the next morning. I'm not happy.

Episode 6: Unpleasant Smelling Discharge

Being that I've been on and off vicodan for 2 years, I'm rather resistant to painkillers. Going home scares me on a number of levels, not the least of which is the drugs aren't as good at home! Some idiot social worker comes in saying she hears that I don't wanna go home yet because of issues at home. I say, "No, I would like an extra day for the drugs." She checks with the nurse and comes back and says,"Oh, yes, the nurse says that you're right and that you're planning to go home tomorrow with your doctor's consent." Then she whips out the whopper,"I just thought you should know that your insurance company hasn't approved your stay since Monday." What she omits, but tells the nurse is that that's no big deal and that it'll be handled. I'm hysterical. Then, Mike comes in and cries because I don't want to come home. He misses me. I relent and say that I'll come home that night after I've had a nice fresh dose of drugs.

The Epilogue:

All and all, I had 9 pokes for IVs. My veins couldn't handle the harsh drugs and kept collapsing. And I had the nicest most capable nurses on the whole freaking ward poking me. I was told in the future I should get a pick which is basically an IV spot that is in an artery, so it doesn't collapse. They had to remove my IV early which meant the meds were oral and not nearly as good or as immediate. The doctor suggested I get an IV in my foot for the stent removal.

The next morning is Genny's birthday. And I'm in so much pain, I can barely remember to wish her a Happy Happy. I can only lay on my back and my bed doesn't recline or change position.

Even now, there are locations in my back which are really aggravated and would like to have words with me about this whole sleeping on my back thang.

I got my drain out Tuesday. Um...I'd give that an episode, but it squicks me to even think about it. I'll just spare you and toss that under, "Sensations too Gross to Discuss."

By far the creepiest things, is that I have an abdomen with 5 wounds, not the least of which is the still not quite closed drain hole with a big old bandaid on it. I am still sleeping on my back, which is why I'm up at 330am writing in my blog.

My body hurts and sometimes, drugs aren't enough. Oh, and I still can't lift more than 10lbs for yet another damned week. I can fold clothes one at a time, sit at the computer with good posture, and stand at the sink carefully to do dishes or at the stove to cook.

On the plus side, my knee has had nearly a month to rest, so it's hardly swollen at all.