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. 

Why Not You?

Every once in a full moon, I like to go on FaceBook and see if I can remember the names of all the people I graduated high school with. Sadly, I can't remember like a fourth of them. So, when someone I had totally forgotten existed pops up on my feed or in the search results unexpectedly, I instantly have to know what happened to them since I apparently forgot they were a person that I even knew or just really a person at all because my mind is special. Yeah, so some investigation happens. It's kind of very entertaining to find out who got fat, who is still a narrow-minded buttface (no, seriously, his face looks like a butt), who dropped out of college, and who got really freaking hot once they abandoned that awkward high school charm that I swear is sewn into private school uniforms. (Or maybe my tastes just changed).

My question is, for those that look like they've got it all together, why not you? Why didn't I fall in love with you when you were in my second hour chemistry class sophomore year? Why weren't we closer than you just copying my algebra 1 homework 5 minutes before class? Why didn't we hangout more when we had the chance instead of just passing each other in the halls everyday like "whatever"? Why did it take me 2 years of being away from you to realize how awesome you are? 

I can't say exactly why I would even want to consider anyone I went to high school with as a regret, but some nights I'm just left to wonder why things weren't different.

I mean, I have theories about why things were the way they were back then, but I'd rather not get into that stuff in this particular post.

The honesty behind this post is that I wouldn't want anything to be any different from the way it was because the people that are on the computer screen or under a name in my phone didn't exist in 2007 or even in 2011 when we all graduated together on a sticky May evening. There were reasons I didn't
want to be closer to them, and they didn't want anything to do with me.

Also, these people that I'm talking about, they really don't have it all together. Instagram posts and tweets don't mean anything. The Facebook statuses about whatever might be happening in the lives of these people don't mean anything. Trust me, I've faked my way through my own fair share of social networking sites (I'm kind of a pro, no big deal).

John Green once wrote, "Just remember that sometimes, the way you think about a person isn’t the way they actually are…People are different when you can smell them and see them up close, you know?"

So, as to not crush my dreams that the people I went to high school with are actually good people deep down passed their rotting livers, I think I'll just avoid being in the same room with any of them until our 10 year reunion (when hopefully I will have a classy, tall-dark-and-handsome kind of husband and a great body) so that the realities of these people don't have to be a thing.

Wait, I bet you're thinking that that's not the way to live. You're right. Thankfully, I don't know any of these people anymore, so it's not like I'm making up stories and lives for people I actually see on a daily basis.

But I'm still going to wonder and ask myself "what if..." and "why not?" and "how come?" because I'll never truly be satisfied with my life choices. But I have what I have and I had what I had. The people that I call my friends today are way better than anything I could have every imagined, and that should be enough.

 It is enough. 

Things I Like Because of Guys

So, I'm not perfect, and I've done some pretty stupid things to make people like me more than they already did. Life is an embarrassing time for me (but, really, who was it not an embarrassing time for? Probably hot people, just saying). And I am guilty of taking interest in all kinds of stuff just because a guy suggests I like that thing. The problem? I've ended up actually liking a lot of those things. See? I bet you thought I couldn't be any more pathetic. Well, looks like you were wrong! Ha!

1. 3OH!3 - Yeah, back in 10th grade when "Don't Trust Me" was hitting the airwaves and I was totally oblivious to what was playing on the radio, I listened to 3OH!3 because a guy forced me to. Well, forced is a heavy term to use here, but I'm pretty sure he actually did force me to listen to them... and he made me make their lyrics my FaceBook status. Yes, he was a douchebag. I know. 

2. Red Hot Chili Peppers - Another band (but who is surprised?)! Actually, if we're getting specific, I only like this band because I was told I couldn't like this band. The same douchebag as above had a thing for blocking me on FaceBook every single time I expressed any love for any RHCP song, so it because a fun little game to play every couple of months. Then, when he was finally out of the picture, I was free to actually like the band because of the band and not because of him. 

3. LOST - As much as I love LOST, it kills me to say that I only watched all 6 seasons in 4 weeks because a  guy got me to. I don't really remember not wanting to watch LOST before then because I don't even think I knew what LOST was. I just knew it was like a big deal. So, I figured "Why not?" 

4. Stephen King - Okay, this one I hadn't even realized was going to be on this list until just now. This is probably the most embarrassing one too. Yeah, I only love Stephen King because a guy lent me IT a couple of summers ago. I recall in middle school when we had to read to get AR (accelerated reader) points, and the Stephen King novels were worth like 100 points each, so the smartest guy in my class was reading them, and I was totally opposed to the idea because I am so easily terrified. But I eventually took a leap. I fell instantly in love with everything about his writing and how his books smelled and the way I felt so inspired by every single description and ending. He's just perfection. 

5. Switchfoot - It was 6th grade. I had just gotten my hands on a portable CD/ AM-FM player, and music on the radio was actually okay. Out of all the "She Will Be Loved" and "Drop It Like It's Hot," I found love in a song called "Dare You To Move".... but only because a guy liked it. Honestly, this only lasted a while, but later in high school I rekindled my love for the band. Now, I'm totally in love with everything this band is a part of. 

I'm sure there are lots of other things that I could add to this list, and I'll be accumulating more throughout the rest of my life. The thing, though, is that people will read this list and think I've been faking it, lying, changing myself to please others or make people like me, but that's not the case. I never pretended to like anything above. So, judge me, but I doubt I am alone. 

Plus, I used to be really stupid. (I still am. shhhh)

Broken Hearts for Teen Angst Me

"I hate the ending myself, but it started with an alright scene"

So, I'm not even going to lie. I'm a little whole lot heartbroken to hear of the recent split-up of one of my favorite and most dear alternative ("emo") bands, My Chemical Romance. This band was really the first "I'm-so-angry-slit-my-wrists-don't-mind-my-eyeliner" music that I ever really took refuge in as my teen angst set in during the early high school years. I first heard of them through MySpace, which really shouldn't come as a surprise. After that, I was hooked. Even after I grew out of that dark, shitty and quite downplayed part of my life, this band was still one of my favorites and has remained a source of inspiration and encouragement to express myself through the last 5 years of my life.

Honestly, I really wasn't all that big of a tortured soul as a teenager. I just hated... well, everyone. I liked sitting in my bedroom (alone, of course) with the music playing way too loud. I liked wearing black and wasting my parent's hard-earned money on band t's at HotTopic. I read shitty Twilight novels and claimed to be "not a religious person" as a really pathetic form of rebellion against my mother (which is pure irony today!). All this started happening spring semester of 9th grade. I can't say what

Whoa. Who is that hottie with the smudged eyeliner? Oh wait. 

triggered me to go to the dark side (actually, it was probably frustration with the fact that I felt so invisible that I figured no one would notice if I turned to a blur of black) after pretending to be a pacifist and "modern day hippie" for the first half of the year, but it happened, and, well, it is safe to say that it is a little too damn late to change that.

But, back to my reflection on MCR. 

You see, tragedy happens. Sometimes you can see that kind of shit coming because the headlights are just way too damn bright and the horn is blaring "You can't run! You can't hide!". Other times.... It comes at you in the blink of a beautiful eye. 2008.... was a shitty year. And, on the scale of tragedy that I had at the time, it probably ranked at a decent 8. That was the year I was constantly bullied for being me. The year my uncle lost his battle with a brain tumor. The year I got braces. The year I let a shithead sophomore boy manipulate and destroy me. And, while I don't think some of those things are quite tragedy-worthy today, these were really big deals for me as a 15 year-old. I mean, all that plus really shitty math classes and horrible acne... C'mon.

But this band was a constant companion during those times. They were there to welcome me to a new day when I woke-up and served as a lullaby when I closed my eyes at night. During a time when nothing seemed reliable or secure, they were there.

Today, I don't need bands to save my life because I have really amazing people beside me at all times, but the music will always be there to add the proper soundtrack to get me through the best and worst times.  

Right now, as I am writing this, I'm listening to one of MCR's songs "Disenchanted" from their album The Black Parade, and somehow all the words work. Fit. Speak all the things that mattered when I first picked up the album almost 5 years ago today. Being a fan of this band... No... Being a believer in this band has changed my life, and I am infinitely proud to say that I have been a member of the Black Parade and a Killjoy. These talented men influenced a generation of once hopeless people, and they will never be forgotten.

Thank you: Gerard, Mikey, Frank, and Ray.

"My Chemical Romance is done. But it can never die. It is alive in me, in the guys, and it is alive inside all of you. I always knew that, and I think you did too. Because it is not a band -  it is an idea.”- Gerard Way