"Michelle Obama and the Second Lady"...

So...

At 4am Monday morning, I got up to make Preston a bottle as usual. My stomach sort of hurt but I chalked it up to hunger and ate a granola bar. That seemed to make it worse. After I put Preston back to sleep, I lied awake in my bed tossing and turning until Zach left for work. The pain was off and on the whole morning, but honestly I thought it was indigestion from the late-night ice cream Zach and I had enjoyed the night before:) Over the past two or three weeks I had had the same kind of pain, always after I had eaten something really sweet (sugar cookies, Rolo McFlurries....). I just thought I needed to lay off the sugar and I would be fine.

The "gas" pain eased up around lunchtime so I met Mom at Target and then ate at Chick-fil-a for lunch. Lunch did me in. I went home and was in so much pain. It was the worst gas pain I had ever had! I did everything I could to get rid of it. I walked around my apartment, took Gas-X, and laid over the back of my couch to force the "gas" out. Nothing worked. It got worse and worse and by the time Zach got home, I could barely speak to him. Zach called the on-call CHP nurse's hotline and she advised us to go to the Patient's First to be seen by a doctor. My mom came and stayed with Preston while Zach drove me over to the doctor. I was disappointed to see a lobby full of people when we got there.... but apparently, when I am in pain I can be quite demanding. I bypassed everyone in the lobby and went straight back to the doctor. He took one look at me and sent us to the E.R. He was almost certain it was my gallbladder. I was still convinced it was gas, but entertained the idea of gallbladder issues on the way to the hospital.

The E.R. was the most jam-packed I have ever seen. The nurses up front did not care that my doctor called ahead and they were supposed to be expecting me. They didn't care that I was doubled over in pain and could hardly walk. They didn't care that I was sobbing and Zach had to support my weight as I walked. They simply put me at the bottom of their list and made me wait like everyone else. That's a different story. Don't even get me started on the problems with our health care system. People with zero insurance come to the E.R. with a headache and expect to be seen before somebody having a gallbladder attack? I don't think so! Pardon me for using the E.R. for what it’s meant for—emergencies!!

After about 30 minutes of waiting, I couldn't take it anymore. I was sobbing into Zach's shoulder and couldn't handle the pain. The pain was as bad as labor contractions except worse than contractions because it was constant instead of coming and going every few minutes. Plus the pain had gotten worse just in the time we had been waiting.

We went back up to the counter and asked for pain medicine while we waited. I tried to talk, but every time I talked it apparently came across as a demand instead of an inquiry…so Zach started to talk for me J We finally spoke to a nurse who gave me Vicodin for the remainder of the wait and let me wait in one of the recliners in a back room instead of the regular waiting room. That way, I could sob without being stared at. Zach came over to the corner of the room where my chair was and gave me a quick blessing. Less than 10 minutes went by and my name was called. I love Jesus. And the priesthood. And my husband. And vicodin.

I don’t remember a lot about the next hours because I was really strung out on narcotics. I remember nurses who didn’t know which end was up. And I remember getting really frustrated that the nurses cared more about standing in the hallway watching a crazy stabbing victim than helping me go to the bathroom. Anyway, around midnight we finally got an ultrasound that showed a big gallstone. The doctor came in and told me I would be admitted and I would need surgery very soon. Zach went home to get Preston from my Mom while they moved me to a room in the hospital. I spent the night watching MTV music videos and waiting to be moved to my hospital room.

The next morning Zach and my dad gave me another blessing that my surgery would go well. It did. It was the 7^th laparoscopic procedure I have had, but this one had the most incisions L I got some pretty serious pain medicine after surgery, but I was still in a great deal of pain. I asked for more pain meds, but was denied by another idiot nurse who told her I was "asking me to do too many things at once." I'm sorry I am in pain and want ice chips at the same time!! Learn to multi-task!

Once I got back up to my room, I apparently said some really funny things. While talking on the phone with my mom, I told her “Mom, I’m not sure the point of me saying this, but Michelle Obama and The Second Lady, Mrs. Biden were on Ellen yesterday.” A few more minutes into the conversation I became very distressed that “I have used up all the ink in all the pens in my purse!”

Mom and Zach said that I dozed off and started talking. The conversation apparently went like this:

Zach: “Sweetie, what did you say?”

Me: “Oh, never mind. I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to the nurse.”

Zach, noticing there was no nurse in the room: “Sweetie, what nurse?

Me: “Never mind. I was talking to the nurse in my dream. The dream where I get more pain medicine.”

Preston has been a trooper. Poor kid. He had to spend two nights away from me. His whole routine got messed up and he doesn’t like being right next to me but not in my arms (I am not supposed to life anything over 5lbs). Hopefully I can get back to taking care of him soon. Meanwhile, Zach and Grammie are doing a great job helping me.

Anyway, bottom line: If you have gas pain that won’t go away, consider your gallbladder.

And always keep extra ink pens in your purse.