Gall Bladders, Tonsils and Other Useless Body Parts

 

 I have heard many mothers talk about how their kids are trying to kill them.  Usually this claim comes after the children are born, not before.  With each pregnancy, Kate found herself experiencing more and more gall bladder pain, until Lucy was born, at which point she decided that there would be no more visits to the ER and no more stabbing pain.

 

A little over a month ago, Kate went under the knife, and had the gallbladder, along with all the ‘sludge’ that was supposed to be contained inside, cut up and sucked out by way of laparoscopic cholecystectomy.    She had the procedure done on a Tuesday.  She acted surprised when, Friday night she got a call from co-workers, who had seen her Facebook status and were wondering if she was working on Saturday, since she was on the schedule.  She worked Saturday and Sunday.  I won’t tell you when she went back to the gym…

Kate is one tough cookie.  I am not.  So when it was determined that I needed an adult adenotonsillectomy, I was a bit nervous.  I have never broken anything.  I have never had surgery.  I have never been sick.  In fact, I am pretty sure that I have never been beyond a 4 on the 1-10 pain scale.  I would say that I had no idea what to expect, but that’s not true.  No less than 50 people told me how awful it was going to be, and that I would be praying for death before it was over. 
The day before surgery Kate went to fill the many scripts we had been given.  I thought that writing the scripts and filling them ahead of time was for efficiency sake.  It was for mercy sake.  When I got home from work on Wednesday night, I saw the two giant bottles of Hydrocodone in liquid form and thought ‘shit just got real.’

After a final meal of greasy, fatty food from Hires Big H, I went to bed, officially NPO.  Kate and Lucy were great cheerleaders, Lucy even wearing her ‘Papa’ outfit for me.  My veins, normally the size of garden hoses, shriveled up, since I was dehydrated.  But after a second stick, we were in business with no further incident.

 

I remember being wheeled into the surgery room, and being chastised by the anesthesiologist for not breathing in the oxygen deep enough.  Before I knew it I was back in recovery, and Kate and Peanut were brought in.  It felt like a Mack truck had been driven down my throat, with ruts to prove it.  But after some ice chips I was talking and feeling pretty good.

That was Thursday.  It is now Monday morning.  Since getting home, I have watched 9 baseball games (I love October), 2 NFL games, 3 college football games and a Jazz preseason game.  I have been obedient about taking my steroids for the swelling and the prophylactic antibiotics, but other than some ibuprofen, nothing for pain.  I am not just trying to be tough.  I haven’t needed it.  The biggest problem is my uvula.  Because it is so swollen, I feel like I can’t swallow, and I gag easily.  But it is usually only a problem when I first wake.  After a Popsicle (my current staple) I feel better.

I try to remain optimistic.  When I told people I was going to work after just a week, they said there was no way.  I am flying out to a conference in Florida 11 days post-op, so I hope they are wrong.  I have not felt like eating much, so I am currently down 9 pounds.  This might seem like a good thing, but as we all know, muscle goes first. 

I am certainly glad I did it.  I had strep throat several times a year, and my tonsils were so big and so scarred that I always had trouble feeling like I was able to swallow all the way.     I managed to go 36 years without having surgery.  Now I hope I am able to go 36 years more.  And I am looking forward to going back to Hires Big H.