‘Twas The Night Before Surgery

In part 2 of my gallbladder drama I told you how I was on the schedule for surgery three weeks after my attack. But then I went to the consultation with my surgeon and basically screwed everything up by feeling too good.

I really was feeling fine. I was annoyed at not having eaten any fat for over a week, but I knew I could hold out until my surgery nine days later. No big deal.

But another patient had come in the day before with cancer. This patient needed a ten-hour procedure. So healthy people like me had to be bumped. I was being bumped until the middle of January. An extra month past my scheduled date. After Christmas, after New Years, after a big trip to Vegas.

What kind of an asshole would feel sorry for herself after hearing about someone else with cancer? This kind, right here.

I didn’t want to be upset. I wanted to smile and say “Well, at least I don’t have cancer. See you in January.” Instead, I cried. Cried because this was the second time that the surgery was getting delayed. Cried because I was scared of going under general anesthesia for the first time and just wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. Cried because if I didn’t have the surgery before the end of the year I would be starting over on my deductible, and the surgery would cost me a lot more out of pocket. Cried because I knew that I would just go back to my old, fatty diet for that month and probably have another giant attack. Cried because when I’m upset I eat my feelings and not being able to eat my feelings was making me more upset.

And I guess the crying worked, because the surgeon’s assistant convinced the surgeon to operate on a Monday just three days after the date I’d been bumped from, a day when she hadn’t been planning on operating.

I owe that assistant some baked goods.

And that brings us to tonight, the night before my surgery. I don’t go under until 2pm tomorrow, but I had to stop eating and drinking everything at midnight. I finished my last Diet Dr Pepper knowing that by the time I get to the hospital I will have a wicked caffeine-withdrawal headache. Those are the worst. I think I’m dreading that more than the surgery.

Based on stories from the many people I know who’ve had this surgery, my recovery will either last a few hours or several weeks. Seriously. The stories are all over the map. Some people tell me not to plan on eating much for Christmas dinner on Friday, other said they were eating normally the next day (one even had pizza the same day as her surgery).

Some people say to stay very close to a bathroom for the first week, other say I should be so lucky and it’s more likely I’ll need a laxative. Some say that they were soon back to eating whatever fatty foods they wanted, others say that to this day they have to be careful of what they eat.

So, basically, I have no idea what to expect! I’ve stocked up on ginger ale, Saltines, laxatives, and Netflix shows.

Mostly, I can’t wait until I can have some cheese.

The next time I post, I’ll be lacking a gallbladder! Hopefully, the secret to all of my powers isn’t stored there.

And now I’m going to put signs all over the kitchen reminding me not to eat or drink when I wake up tomorrow. My biggest fear is that I will stumble out of bed at 6:30 and open a Diet Dr Pepper before I’m even fully awake, thus ruining my surgery. Thanks for changing your schedule for me, doctor, but I wasn’t able to follow a simple NPO instruction.

Wish me luck! Or, rather, wish my surgeon luck. :-)