A galling situation

My gallbladder hates me.

It suprised me greatly to find this out, because I can honestly say that I had no feelings whatsoever about my gallbladder. In fact, until a week and a half ago, I would have been hardpressed to state with the utmost confidence that I actually had a gallbladder. I do not know what I did to inspire such hatred from an internal organ, but the fact remains that the hatred is there, and it is fierce.

How do I know this? Last week I had occasional, off-and-on abdomen pains. Nothing too serious, but enough to make me sit up and take notice. Then, perhaps tired of its thankless and unnoticeable job, my gallbladder completely went on strike. Of course, I didn't know this at the time. All I knew was that there was incredible, ceaseless pain that made me think that going to the emergency room (because, of course, it was late in the evening) was a good idea.

Upon coming to that conclusion, however, a slight problem arose. I was home with the kids, unable to drive due to pain, Sabrina was not yet old enough to drive for me, and David was off in a tube, with no phone, getting an MRI. But get to the emergency room I did, eventually. There they shot me up with super duper drugs that got me higher than a kite. After the second shot (because the first one basically did nothing), I was giggling like mad over the size of the needle on the shot they gave me. (I am sure it was a foot long.) The ER doctor asked me how I was feeling now, and I replied that I thought the pain was still there, but I just didn't care anymore. And that I loved him. Luckily, David was there to hear follow-up instructions.

The last week has been a blur of doctor's appointments, ultrasounds, and blood work. Diagnosis? My gallbladder hates me.

Here is a picture my surgeon drew for me:

I think we can all agree this is some excellent drawing. Hopefully, he's just as good at surgery.

Sabrina wanted to know what was wrong, so I pulled out this handy-dandy picture and showed her. Because she is smarter than me, and has also just recently finished a full year of biology, she was very familiar with the organs shown.

Sabrina: What are all those little balls in the gallbladder?

Me: Those are gallstones.

S: What are they doing there?

Me: My gallbladder produced them.

S: What's their purpose?

Me: Their only purpose is to torment and torture.

S: Well, they've done their job then. Why does your gallbladder have a frilly bonnet?

Me: That is to show it is very inflamed.

S: I want to congratulate you.

Me: What for?

S: That is an impressive amount of gallstones and inflammation. Obviously, if you do something, you commit wholeheartedly. Go big or go home, I always say.

Me: Thank you. I think.

So, because my gallbladder hates me and is trying to kill me, proactive measures have to be taken. Tomorrow, I am going under the knife to remove that sucker. Hopefully, when it's all done, my innards will look more like this:

Go, Team Surgery!