In Which I am Down One Organ

Well, it’s been a week and over 24 hours since I’ve had a painkiller. I think it’s safe to write again.

Hello everyone! If you couldn’t tell by the fact I’m alive I made it through my gallbladder removal surgery A-OK! Honestly the worst part of it all, besides the daytime TV forced upon me in every room, was getting the IV in. Turns out the massive therapy I went through to help me with my needle phobia doesn’t really work with “having a needle stay in your arm” phobias. Dang it. Well at least I didn’t cry and scream too much during all of that.

I’d give a better report on how things went and the days afterwards but as I mentioned: painkillers. Good Lord. Here’s my general memory of events of the past week:

  • Pre-Surgery. According to Steve Harvey’s talk show I am a spineless whimp if I do things like ‘let my date answer a call on his phone’ or ‘go dutch on the meal instead of insisting he pays for it’. Sadly I do not get to hear more from Steve’s professional dating expert because I am wheeled into the surgery room
  • Wow! I think as I’m wheeled away, just like in Silent Hill!
  • I should not be thinking of Silent Hill right now, I continue
  • Turns out surgery rooms really do look like that, big lights and beeping machines and everything. I’m moved over to bed/sacrificial platform and the nurse announces she’s going to give me the happy juice.
  • I wake up in the recovery room. Bwuah?
  • Now I’m in short term??? Max is there? When did Max get there?
  • MAX HAS MY PHONE I take a selfie because priorities
  • The nurse says I can’t go home until I pee so I down what must be the most delicious bottles of apple juice, cranberry juice, and like three waters.
  • I PEE WOOHOO GET THIS IV OUT OF MY ARM NOW MISS NURSE
  • Oh hey I’m in my clothes and getting wheeled out
  • Now I’m in Max’s car?
  • Hurray in bed and Dad’s here with my painkillers oh lucky day

Then for the next few days it was:

  • Wake up
  • Soup
  • Walkies
  • I wanna wriiiiiiiiiiiite
  • My various online supports tell me I can’t write
  • But I wannaaaaaaaa
  • Stupid pre-surgery Amber informed them to make sure I don’t write
  • SIGH
  • “No Cujo-ing” my brother says as he hands me a gatorade
  • SIIIIIIIIIIGH
  • Fall asleep listening to My Brother My Brother and Me
  • Repeat every four hours

All while slowly weaning myself painkillers. Now that I’m off them completely I’m finally back to my normal semi-lucid self. And you know what that means…

WRITING TIME! AND NONE OF YOU CAN STOP ME!

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