i'm short but i'm healthy yeah-ah

**Many have inquired as to my health lately, so if you're interested in what's going on, please continue reading this post.**

Here's my history: I've had heartburn since approximately 1998; Tums have been a staple of my existence since my first pregnancy, taken daily and mostly at night. Last September I started taking lactase tablets because dairy did not agree with me. Little by little since then, certain foods had to be eliminated from my diet, pizza foremost among them. Then, in mid-January, I contracted that vomit virus that was going around. I never fully recovered from that, and began having serious abdominal pain every time I ate or drank anything (added intestinal/gas pain depending on the food). The pain would start about 30 minutes after I started eating and continually get worse and worse until that pain was replaced by the pain of being hungry -- and I didn't want to eat again because I knew what that meant - it just would start all over again.

A few Saturdays ago I went to the local ER because of the pain. After an hour's wait in the waiting room, I was put into the "fast track" area, where the doctor who assessed me determined, rather quickly, that I needed an actual room rather than the fast-track service . After a few blood draws and an ultrasound of my belly (where they discovered a pollyp on my gallbladder), and some GOOD pain medicine, I was told I had an ulcer, and released. I went home with the intentions of continuing my diet of toast, oatmeal, and for some fun flavor, bananas. The next day, however, after relaying all of this to my stepdad, who is a Physician's Assistant, he told me, "You don't have an ulcer."

"How do you know?"

"Did they do any tests? Have you drink anything chalky?"

"Uh...blood draw and an ultrasound."

"You can't find an ulcer from those tests."

"Super."

"Plus, with an ulcer, you get pain and then eat to temporarily eat the pain. You get pain from eating. It's different."

"So...what should I do?"

"When you follow up with your doctor, ask for a hidascan to rule out gallbladder disease."

Thank goodness for Dave. Because of him, I knew what to say when the nurse suggested, over the phone, that I just keep trying the medication until Friday to see if it helps: "Uh, I don't mean to be presumptuous, but I need to get a hidascan to rule out gallbladder disease."

After asking the doctor, she phoned back with, again, the same suggestion that we just wait it out.

At this point, I started crying a bit, and explained, again: "I don't want to be an annoying patient here, but I REALLY need to be more proactive about this. I can't function. The pain interferes with my being able to change diapers and otherwise function." Nurse said, "Hold on a minute." She came back with, "Okay, we'll get a scan set up for you today."

The next day, Tuesday, I had the scan which, if you're at all claustrophobic, I don't recommend. After more phoning madness, we received the news on Wednesday that I do, in fact, have gallbladder disease, and do I have a preference for which surgeon to meet with. (Yes, thanks to my friend b., I sure do.) Thursday I met with a surgeon of choice for a consult, and it was determinded that I would have the surgery. One of my few questions for him was, "How soon can we do this?" He checked his calender, and, whuddya know, he had an available appointment the very next day.

I drove myself to the surgery center on Friday a little before 7:am, listening to my favorite morning radio show. It was during this drive that I realized, with a surprising shock, that I'd never had surgery before, and I really didn't know what I was in for. (I've had my wisdom teeth removed, but I wasn't put under for it.) I registered and was called back by a nurse, whose first question to me caught me off-guard: "Why are you here today?" I know that this was probably to confirm that I was indeed who I am, but I still thought it was a bit funny. I put on a gown and a cap and special socks, and took off my glasses and wedding ring. I scuffled over to my bed, where I got an IV (approximately my fifth stick that week). More people asking questions: the surgeon and his assistant. Finally it was time to begin. As I was wheeled into the operating room, I began to chant, in my mind, my kids' names repeatedly, to calm myself. The operating room was COLD. I scooted myself from the bed to the table, and I realized that a radio was on. I had the thought: If I die, I am going to be beyond pissed that the last voices I heard belong to Chunga and Mister.

The next thing I know, I am back in the bed, waking up and crying, like a two-year-old, "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow OW OWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW!!" It was very out-of-mind, and primitive. I cried myself back to sleep. I was woken up periodically to take sips of water, and was moved to a recliner (a la lazy boy). Also, I was taken on walks by the nurses, who had to remind me to do things like, "Use your leg muscles," and, "Open your eyes." A few hours later, Darin and the munchkins arrived to take me home (when they walked in, one nurse took a look at the kids and said, "Ahhhh...now I know why you're so tired."). I was given instructions: Follow up with the surgeon in a week. In the meantime, no baths (showers are okay), and no lifting anything heavier than a gallon of milk. HELLO?! Why didn't anyone tell me that one before? I have a sixteen-pound baby!

When I got home, I realized that I needed help. My mom coming to visit was out of the question because she was in Illinois helping her brother who had just had surgery. So my seester, Beans, came from Florida. She was here for a week. I am SO GRATEFUL that she was here. She was with me when I had to go back to the ER the day after surgery because of my chest pains. She changed countless diapers, gave baths, brushed hair, tied shoes, cooked food, made bottles, got up with the baby in the middle of the night, bought groceries, took us out to dinner, and so very much more. I loved having her here. We had some good laughs and she even helped me begin to compose a song called "My Nips Don't Lie" ("Oh, Bubby, when you bite like that...You make a mommy real sad..."). She only left to go home last night, and we miss her so much already. Also, and I hope she doesn't mind me saying this: while she was here, she went for 6 days+ without a cigarette. That is huge for her. I know she can quit now if she really wants to. I'm so proud that she did that.

An extra added bonus: remember my ward who doesn't really provide meals if you have a baby? Well, they'll bring food if you have surgery! Just get an operation, and you've got at LEAST a week of meals. Wah-la. SO helpful. It's my time to be the recipient of others' service. I feel so blessed.

I have to follow up with the surgeon on Wednesday. Still waiting on lab results to make sure the gallbladder didn't contain any, you know, cancer. I'm a little sore at the incision sites, but other than that I feel good. And, GET THIS: since my surgery, I have not had one lactase tablet, nor any TUMS. It's a valentine miracle.






Today's Yay: Happy Chinese New Year!
Today's Boo: Missing Beans.