Fine...you?
Hoooommmm....14 weeks since my last entry...forgive me Brothers and Loves, for I have sinned. Much has happened since then, but I'll stick with last week's story for the moment. I know yinz are curious...
So, it happened to be that I was to have a whole weekend off last weekend. Unheard of in my recent life. I was basking in the possibilities of a short vacation. Possibly back to Pittsburgh, or Cleveland; Dayton or DC. Oh the endless excitement of a clear schedule! What to do? What to do?
How about a Gall Bladder attack? PERFECT! It hit me Thursday night about 11:00, and it didn't seem a particularly different pain from other food induced traumas I've had over my lifetime. As a consequence, I decided to try to purge it out. I hopped in my truck and headed to no fewer than 3 local pharmacies, looking for someplace open, until I found myself at Wal-Mart, 11:45. I'm doubled over and rushing through the store to where the pharmacy would be, if I were in charge. Turns out it's in the exact opposite corner of the store. Nice! Anyway, I trundle accross the wasteland of an imminently closing WalMart, and pick up 2 bottles of Magnesium Citrate, the old family standby. I get in line behind the obligatory mid 50s she-hulk on the rascal, with three separate orders, a checkbook, and pricing problems. I finally make it to the checkout girl, who proceeds to tell me all about the far superior products that they stock for my particular...issue. Thanks, my dear, but I'd love to just be going.
Anyway, I get out and get home, down a bottle and take my position. Nothing. I try to induce in the other direction, and that doesn't help either, so I'm up and trying to find a position that I can stay in for more than 15 minutes, still figuring that this is digestive, and I'd better sleep it off. Failing that, I call Stacey at 5:45 Friday morning, on Andy's phone, after having left the worlds most pathetic text and voice mail on Stacey's. She comes to rescue me, and we head into the emergency room.
7 short hours later, encompassing various undignified tests, and a forced confinement amongst the committed awaiting their fates at whatever state institution happens to shake a bed free ("If I don't hear from the social worker by 5:00, I'm checking myself out! My 72 hours are up!" "Um...no you're not. I appreciate your frustration, but we can hold you here against your will." Hilarity ensues...). Finally, I am admitted. Surgery is set for 3:30. I'm not allowed even ice chips. Last meal was 7:00 the previous day. Last consumption that glorious half gallon of apple-like sludge administered for the CT. I make it to pre-op, where more undignified things are done to me. Then surgery is postponed til 5:30. Yay!!!
So, at 5:30 on the nose, the come for me. I meet the team, and somebody starts to tell me something about anesthesia. ZZZZZZ....
I wake up and everything seems fine. I'm covered in these wonderful heated blankets, which I apparently CANNOT stop raving about. The doctor comes in to check on me, and gives all the usual calming, reassuring banter expected and goes into the rundown on the surgery. Everything is cool. They were able to do it laporoscopically, which may have been a concern since I had a hernia operation when I was 6. Everything is fine. Liver is in good shape. We have pictures! Yadda yadda yadda...Eventually his composure breaks a little, when he's sure that I'm alright. "Dude, it was AWFUL! We had to make the exit incision about twice the usual size, and still had to do a bit of tugging to get it out. You might be sore there as a result. Sorry about that, but seriously..." (That's all paraphrased. I'm sure you understand...) Turns out that I had 3 stones, the largest about the size of a gumball. Seriously infected, and close to gangrenous. Well timed little attack, this one!
Anyway...since the surgery, everything has gone remarkably well. They kept me overnight to see if I could tolerate food. Tolerate is a smidge of an understatement. I DESTROYED breakfast. I spent the rest of the weekend with Stacey and Andy; was off the pain meds by Tuesday; went back to work Wednesday; went to a party Friday night, and am playing tonight. Altogether smooth and drama-free.
So there you have it, Freakwatchers...my answer to what to do with a free weekend.
So, it happened to be that I was to have a whole weekend off last weekend. Unheard of in my recent life. I was basking in the possibilities of a short vacation. Possibly back to Pittsburgh, or Cleveland; Dayton or DC. Oh the endless excitement of a clear schedule! What to do? What to do?
How about a Gall Bladder attack? PERFECT! It hit me Thursday night about 11:00, and it didn't seem a particularly different pain from other food induced traumas I've had over my lifetime. As a consequence, I decided to try to purge it out. I hopped in my truck and headed to no fewer than 3 local pharmacies, looking for someplace open, until I found myself at Wal-Mart, 11:45. I'm doubled over and rushing through the store to where the pharmacy would be, if I were in charge. Turns out it's in the exact opposite corner of the store. Nice! Anyway, I trundle accross the wasteland of an imminently closing WalMart, and pick up 2 bottles of Magnesium Citrate, the old family standby. I get in line behind the obligatory mid 50s she-hulk on the rascal, with three separate orders, a checkbook, and pricing problems. I finally make it to the checkout girl, who proceeds to tell me all about the far superior products that they stock for my particular...issue. Thanks, my dear, but I'd love to just be going.
Anyway, I get out and get home, down a bottle and take my position. Nothing. I try to induce in the other direction, and that doesn't help either, so I'm up and trying to find a position that I can stay in for more than 15 minutes, still figuring that this is digestive, and I'd better sleep it off. Failing that, I call Stacey at 5:45 Friday morning, on Andy's phone, after having left the worlds most pathetic text and voice mail on Stacey's. She comes to rescue me, and we head into the emergency room.
7 short hours later, encompassing various undignified tests, and a forced confinement amongst the committed awaiting their fates at whatever state institution happens to shake a bed free ("If I don't hear from the social worker by 5:00, I'm checking myself out! My 72 hours are up!" "Um...no you're not. I appreciate your frustration, but we can hold you here against your will." Hilarity ensues...). Finally, I am admitted. Surgery is set for 3:30. I'm not allowed even ice chips. Last meal was 7:00 the previous day. Last consumption that glorious half gallon of apple-like sludge administered for the CT. I make it to pre-op, where more undignified things are done to me. Then surgery is postponed til 5:30. Yay!!!
So, at 5:30 on the nose, the come for me. I meet the team, and somebody starts to tell me something about anesthesia. ZZZZZZ....
I wake up and everything seems fine. I'm covered in these wonderful heated blankets, which I apparently CANNOT stop raving about. The doctor comes in to check on me, and gives all the usual calming, reassuring banter expected and goes into the rundown on the surgery. Everything is cool. They were able to do it laporoscopically, which may have been a concern since I had a hernia operation when I was 6. Everything is fine. Liver is in good shape. We have pictures! Yadda yadda yadda...Eventually his composure breaks a little, when he's sure that I'm alright. "Dude, it was AWFUL! We had to make the exit incision about twice the usual size, and still had to do a bit of tugging to get it out. You might be sore there as a result. Sorry about that, but seriously..." (That's all paraphrased. I'm sure you understand...) Turns out that I had 3 stones, the largest about the size of a gumball. Seriously infected, and close to gangrenous. Well timed little attack, this one!
Anyway...since the surgery, everything has gone remarkably well. They kept me overnight to see if I could tolerate food. Tolerate is a smidge of an understatement. I DESTROYED breakfast. I spent the rest of the weekend with Stacey and Andy; was off the pain meds by Tuesday; went back to work Wednesday; went to a party Friday night, and am playing tonight. Altogether smooth and drama-free.
So there you have it, Freakwatchers...my answer to what to do with a free weekend.