Under The Knife: A Tale of A Girl and Her Gallbladder

When I was a junior in high school, my health kind of went on a downward spiral into the pits of Hell. I don't talk about it in detail too often (though, I have briefly said things about it in other posts on here) unless it comes up or someone asks. So, just cutting to the punchline of this unfunny joke of mine, I don't have a gallbladder. And, for those readers who have no idea what the frig a gallbladder does, it pretty much aids in digestion of fats by storing bile produced by the liver that is later released to break fats down. Mine didn't like to do that...

So, I was sitting in physics class (which, just for bonus info, was actually one of my favorite classes I took in high school) on Friday, April 9, 2010, when suddenly I got this feeling in my upper abdomen. It wasn't anything painful or immediately recognizable. It just suddenly felt like a clown was scrunched up in my belly trying to blow up balloons despite the lack of space to do such an activity. All that pressure built up overtime became quite uncomfortable. 

This had happened before almost a year before. It was the holiest of gallbladder attacks. Again, for those who have no idea what a gallbladder attack is: this basically means that bile has solidified due to all the chemicals in the gallbladder being out of balance. So, when the body goes to release bile after fat has been consumed, it tries to pass this hard lump through a narrow bile duct. Basically, it is like trying to pass a golfball through a straw. Ouch, right? Yes. Ouch. Very much ouch! 

So, like the polite student I am, I raised my hand and asked to go to the bathroom. My teacher, Mr. Howe-The-Heck-Do-We-Learn-This-Ish, normally wasn't into letting students just leave but I guess I am just super special or something because he let me go, no questions asked. Alleluia! Alleluia! Thanks be to God! 

I didn't even go in the direction of the bathroom. I was headed for the attendance office to ask to get my parents on the phone to take me to the ER (Some kids get really drunk and have sex in high school, I took trips to the ER. No biggie). 

Just my luck, I ran into the attendance secretary on my way down the hall.

Her: Hello, Angela!

Me: Oh! I was just headed to see you!

Her: Is everything okay?

Me: Nope, I think something is wrong and I need to bounce my way to the hospital ASAP.

And you can bet your family jewels that we got our butts down to the office and had my dad on the phone in a matter of minutes. 

Meanwhile, I'm toppled over holding my gut as if I thought it would just pop like a zit if I squeezed hard enough. I just wanted the pressure to go away. I literally thought my skin was just going to burst. Lucky for me, everyone in the school was headed for a pep rally (for what, I don't give a flying fart in space) so no one was really around to see me in such a state. 

Ugh, but, while I was waiting for my dad to show up, there was this evil immortal nun at my school who just kept asking me stupid questions while I was trying not to cuss my back flab off due to the amount of discomfort I was experiencing. Well, I guess they weren't stupid questions. Just super annoying to someone in pain, ya know? Luckily, the secretary was with me to fight off the questions because I couldn't really say anything at all. 

So, then my dad shows up and he gets my car and he takes me to the hospital literally 3 minutes away. I will never forget that ride to the hospital because my dad had turned down the stereo but I could still make out the end of "When You Believe" from The Prince of Egypt and the start of "Holding Out for a Hero" by Bonnie Tyler playing on a CD. Don't ask me. I had weird mix-CD's in my car at the time. 

No, you end up dead at the end. Be quiet. 

We get to the hospital and we wait in the ER waiting room for like 2 hours or something ridiculous. By the time they got to looking at me, I wasn't even in that much pain anymore. They gave me some gunk to drink that was supposed to numb my stomach. I'm not sure, but I think they might have even had me hooked up to stuff. It was a huge blur. But I do remember that they brought in an ultrasound machine, and a male ultrasound technician looked at my insides. I had no idea what I was looking at on the screen, but I assumed the guy knew what he was doing. And he thought he saw some gallstones. A doctor then came in and talked to me about how I'd probably need to have my gallbladder taken out to avoid any further complications. (FYI. This isn't the only course of action available, so don't jump on it like I did if you're ever in this situation). I probably nodded me head to whatever he was saying. It was like Sam in Holes just telling me he could fix it... but this doctor was white and only trying to suck money out of my dad. Oh well. 

Then we went home. And, while slightly doped up on a post-ER high, I went to see Alice in Wonderland in theaters. It is safe to say, I remember almost nothing about that movie. Yay! And the next night, I sleepily went to my junior prom. And then I felt like crap for the rest of the weekend. 

A few weeks later, I went under the knife and had a cholecystectomy. This was the first time I'd ever been put under anesthesia or been cut open anywhere that wasn't my mouth. I was put on hardcore narcotics for a few days, (Oh, the good days!) and I was told to eat as much jello as I wanted. 

Sure, I can't enjoy ice cream, milk with my cereal, or the greasiest foods in America anymore, but so what? I can still eat disgusting amounts of Sour Patch Kids, thankfully. I have an ugly scar on my belly, and when suddenly everyone starts getting the Gbizzles out as a fashion statement, I can say I was into that way before everyone else. Angelina Jolie, I'm watching you. 

But, seriously, kiddos. Take care of your bodies. Don't eat unhealthy amounts of fat that cause your body to jump of a cliff into a pit of health issues you'll die with when you're 35. Seriously. Go exercise now. And eat a bag of celery.