Remember how, a couple days ago, I was bitching about being stressed out and tired all the time? Turns out, my gallbladder was failing and that can cause big time exhaustion and general malaise. Apparently it's pretty common for women to experience gallbladder issues during and after pregnancy (something about high estrogen levels and everything being squished around in there?).
On Thursday morning, they did an abdominal ultrasound and the technician immediately said: "Wow. Well, no wonder you're not feeling very good!" There were at least two large gallstones hanging out in there, and one was blocking the duct. In a feat of efficiency atypical of the US healthcare system, I was in for a consultation with a surgeon that afternoon and scheduled for surgery the following morning.
Luckily, my amazing sister was there to take care of me - and my mother-in-law and sisters-in-law stepped up to take care of Charlotte.
My husband? Uh... he played golf all day. How 1950s is that?*
The surgery department at the hospital was pretty damn impressive, in all its conveyor-belt/assembly line glory. The place is clearly designed to get a lot of people in and out as quickly as possible. Clarification: a lot of OLD people in and out as quickly as possible. I was surrounded by blue hairs and AARP Magazine! No offense to all you golden oldies out there, but I am only 33 and I'm not prepared to go quietly into the senior citizen twilight just yet!
The last time I went under anesthesia was in 2003, for a post-car-accident eye surgery. I wasn't nervous beforehand and didn't waste a lot of time worrying about going under and never waking up again. But this time, I found myself getting nervous. I kept thinking about Charlotte and how I wanted to be around to see her grow up. Of course I knew that gallbladder removal is a routine outpatient procedure, but it's hard not to be a little anxious.
Everything went well, and I was back home in no time. This was my second abdominal surgery in 7 months, and the recovery has been a little rougher than I expected.
Friday and Saturday were a breeze, because my sister was taking care of me and also because I was all hopped up on pain meds. But on Sunday, I threw up all day long and couldn't keep anything down. My poor husband took care of Charlotte and got me chicken soup in an effort to calm my stomach.
Today is better (*fingers crossed*) and I'm planning to go back to work tomorrow in an attempt to resume some semblance of normal life.
But I've decided that all my previous anxiety was stored in my gallbladder, so now that it's gone - the anxiety is gone, too. Right? I'm sticking to my original plan: meditate more, delegate more, let the unimportant shit go, stress less.
Watch out, life. I'm about to kick your ass.
*In his defense, I did tell him it was ok since I had plenty of other people to help out.