Going but won't be forgotten

Ah, she's doing it -- she's leaving the office. Moving on to better things. Not sure what that will be just yet, but she's off on a new adventure. I'm going to miss her terribly. We have had some fun times at work and at the Chocolate Festival. Not a day goes by that we can't be found laughing so hard we have tears running down our faces at some point during the work day. We're good for each other. The office won't be the same without her radiant smile and bubbly, happy spirit. MR called her a little sprite; GW says she's our little ray of sunshine; crazy, fun, quirky, that's our LP. She's going to finish her medical assistant certification and then go on for ultrasonography, at least, that's the loosely woven plan at this point. Still looking for true love and finding it's been quite a bumpy road. She doesn't give up though. She keeps her spirits up and keeps on hoping for the best.

Originally, she was going to leave and move to Mass to live with her new boyfriend, her true love, the man she was going to marry......that lasted about 3 weeks. Then warning flags started waving. He has a sleep issue; he's jealous; he wants to step back for a week or so and figure out what they are doing. He let her give her notice and make all her plans and then decides maybe they were acting too quickly. She deserves WAY better than that. He's not good enough for her. She makes a smart decision--she's not going through with it. She's going to stay home and take the time to do her externship for M.A. before deciding what will come next. She's already looking at other men, sort of. Can't keep this woman down -- I'm really going to miss her.

Aw, I love to be missed!

Back to work after a week's bereavement and a week for surgery and recuperation...not only did my co-workers welcome me back with open arms, telling me how much they missed me, but the patients apparently missed me as well! They told me how everyone was trying to cover for me but it wasn't quite the same as if I were there. Awwwww, shucks! I did tell them that I completely appreciated the fact that my co-workers were willing to pitch in and cover for me as best as they could while I was away. It's been a busy week, catching up on all the little details that were overlooked and I should have been napping in the afternoon, but I'll make up for it on the weekend. I'm not very good at laying around at home waiting to heal. At least I was able to leave earlier than usual just about every day. Someone told me how one of their friends took a six week leave of absence to recover from gallbladder surgery......I think that was milking it a bit. I'm feeling so much better without that thing in me, tired, a little sore, but WAY better than that stabbing, unforgiving pain. The D dog and I are headed to VT for the weekend with J, just the girls. We will lay around and sleep in and eat lots of chocolate....what could be better?

Bye Bye!

There it goes! My gallbladder has been whisked out of me, though how they take it out through those tiny little slashes I can't figure out. I'm just glad it's gone. It was a quick stabbing pain on Sunday that first alerted me that something was wrong. I tried to blame food poisoning though the pain was high up where the ribs meet in the middle and a little to the right. I went to bed and in the morning thought I felt fine. Walked the dog, drank two cups of coffee, and jumped in the shower. An even worse attack ensued in the shower and I still had conditioner in my hair....I got all sweaty and thought I was going to pass out with that one; also very nauseous. Jumped out of the shower and puked in the porcelain bowl....all the while thinking....I can't die now! I still have conditioner in my hair. When I gathered enough oomph to get back in the shower and rinse out the conditioner, I quickly finished the shower, still thinking I was dying. Grabbed a towel and fell on the bed. I had to call work and tell them I wasn't going to make it in....apparently some sort of bug had a hold of me.

As I lay there, the stabbing sensation started to subside and was more tolerable. Still, I laid there, not daring to move. Then my mind started thinking of what it could be...I knew it wasn't my heart, not that kind of pain; I take Prilosec every day so it shouldn't be GERD; oh wait a minute, my mom and grandmother both had their gall bladders out so there's a family history....maybe that's it. Of course I had to get up and check out on the computer the symptoms. hmmmmm, sounds like it could be that. But then again, I've been grieving a lot lately. Sometimes grief finds your weak spots and acts upon them. Is this something I can just ride out?

I slept all day Monday except for taking the D dog out twice to relieve herself. I felt okay not putting anything in my belly, no food, not even water. J came home and brought ginger ale. I tried a couple of sips of that and was right back where I started with the stabbing pain again. I guess I can't have anything in my stomach. Go to sleep some more; slept all night too. Sheesh!

When morning came, of course I felt fine. Empty stomach. Need to take meds so I downed those with water and ate a piece of toast with jam on it, no fatty foods, just in case it's gall bladder. Seemed okay. Got to my T appointment and half way into it, the pain starts stabbing at me again. She notices I seem to be in considerable pain. Do I want to stop the session? God no! I have to pay for this hour, I'm not cutting it short!! She asks symptoms, thinks it's gall bladder, advises go to pcp. I go to work. Stubborn ass! I lasted about 2 hours at work with all this food around me. It was birthday celebration day at work where everyone brings in all this food that is not necessarily good for you but sure tastes just fine! I couldn't even look at it. I called my pcp. Got in almost immediately. Had another attack there while they are poking and prodding me and taking blood.

They send me for an ultrasound, also suspect gall bladder but may be pancreatitis, an ulcer, or a number of other things. The ultrasound was agony! Poking and prodding with that damn wand telling me, the kidneys look good, the liver looks good, oh, so does your abdominal aorta and pancreas. Marvelous! What about the friggin' gall bladder? Oh yeah, that's your culprit. It's full of stones and look at the size of that one!

PCP gets a wet read and sends me to the ED so the surgeon on call can consult and decide when to operate. Hey....this isn't what I set out to do today. I spent most of the evening in the ED on a very uncomfortable pad about two inches thick. My J, sweet daughter, comes to stay with me, waiting to hear what's going to happen. Surgeon wants to admit me but no beds at the moment. Give her demerol for the pain to help her out. Oh yeah, that helps just fine with the stabbing pain but my back and ass are not benefiting from it....they are killing me from this supposed bed. Around 11 a bed opens up. Someone left AMA. Oh yay! A real bed.

Being the poopaphobe that I am, lucky me gets a roommate who is prepping for a colonoscopy. She's crapping all over the place and keeps ringing the nurses to get her more disposable panties. They finally tell her to just stay on the commode because it will be hours before she is through.....hours? How am I going to sleep? And of course, telling her to stay on the commode just conjures up notions of that lady that was fused to the toilet seat in the news recently. Hoo boy! What a night.

So I wait and wait with no food no water no ice chips until the surgeon can fit me in; I'm an add-on but he doesn't want to send me home. I'm there, I'm prepped and can't eat without intense pain, let's take it out before it compromises her liver....yes, please do!

The wonderful folks I work with called me all during my day of waiting, letting me know they were thinking of me, offering words of encouragement, making me laugh. Thank you so much. It's nice to have a support group.

J comes to stay with me after surgery, but they kick her out at 8:30. Visiting hours are over at 8. I get to have ice chips AND apple juice--a feast! I can't say enough for morphine either.

Did I mention my surgeon looks like he's about 16? Awesome doc and super reputation. Great bedside manner but I so wanted to ask him how old he was. C'mon he's gotta be late 30s, early 40s, but damn he looks 16, maybe 18. Doesn't matter. He did a good job and let me go home today cautioning to take it easy.

I think--this time--I will listen.