The Bad

A couple weeks after Miss Bliss' arrival, our favorite ice cream shop was closing it's doors for the season. Of course, we had to make a trip one last time! I had just fed Sophia, the diaper bag was ready, everyone had their shoes and coats on to load up, and I was feeling miserable. What was this? It felt like bad gas or something. I wondered if my body and organs were just readjusting after childbirth but, OH MY GOSH. And that quickly, I was on the floor, trying any position to find relief from this pain. I couldn't describe it to my worried husband by my side. With the kids all anxious to go, he was trying to get me to respond...Do we go get ice cream? What's wrong? Do we need to go to the hospital instead? I laid there for 15 minutes or so. And as quickly as the pain came, it was gone. And, it quickly became an afterthought. Off to ice cream we went!

November 19, 4:30pm ...Lili informs Dad, Nana and I that she has a concert THAT VERY NIGHT and she needs to be there at 6 p.m. We all snap into action to make that happen! A half an hour into it, the pain returns. There is no warning. No preparing for this. And it hurts to touch the right side of my abdomen. What is going on inside of me? I push through. Praying for the pain to subside. I try to sit through Lili's concert, I try to stand through Lili's concert, nothing is helping. I'm getting anxious about this. What is going on? My dear, concerned mother tells my sister what is going on. She calls and says, "It sounds like your gallbladder, sis." And she is able to describe the exact pain I am having. Like someone is squeezing me right under my ribs and it goes all the way around my back. Yes! That's it! Sister had her gallbladder out in 2008, so she knows what I'm going through. She advises me to stay away from sugar and carbs. (WHAT?!! What am I supposed to eat then?!) She empathizes that yes, it sucks, but we agree that the attacks are worse than a diet change. I make an appointment with my doctor as soon as possible.

My doctor feels around my abdomen, I clench and grimace as she gets closer to my right side. She agrees that I need an ultrasound to confirm the diagnosis:: Gall stones. My ultrasound is scheduled for the Tuesday before Thanksgiving.

The ultrasound tech is very nice. Pushes around a lot, but very kind to make sure I am still comfortable. He takes a bajillion pictures. I ask him what he sees. He gives me a rehearsed answer.."The doctors prefer we not tell the patients what we see." I razz him..."But you see something, right?" He responds with..."I do a lot of ultrasounds. I know what I'm looking at. And I know what I see." I keep razzing him..."So do I have a few stones?" He kindly responds..."I could get in trouble for responding. I'm sorry." Dang it. He's good. I head home and wait for my doctor to call me.

She is quick to respond before Thanksgiving, thankfully! I just want to know what's going on. She confirms what she thought before and what the ultrasound shows... Gall stones. But she is unsure if it's a giant mass of several gall stones or one big giant one. She tells me that it's taking up most of my gall bladder and that she would refer me to a surgeon right away. She advises that I could continue to live with attacks, but eventually, that mass will irritate my gall bladder too much and cause too much pain to live with.

Hubs agrees- that thing has got to come out! The surgeon's office calls and schedules a consultation. We talk with the surgeon, he reviews the scans, he doesn't question the diagnosis at all. It's pretty obvious. He goes over all of the risks of the actual procedure with me. He says that it could be a bunch of little stones, in which case the laparoscopy procedure will work just fine. But if it's one big one, I might wake up with a bigger laceration as they needed a bigger space to remove the organ. Well, yeah, that makes sense. Let's just get this thing out, and before the end of the year....We've already met our deductible with childbirth.

Surgery is scheduled for December 18th. Perfect. Before the end of the year, and I should have no problem healing my body before Christmas. Let's do this! I continue to have attacks here and there. I continue to watch my diet as much as possible. My shortest attack was the first one, at 15 minutes. My longest attack lasted seven hours. Yes, SEVEN HOURS. The way my surgeon explained an attack is that the gall stone(s) are rolling around in there and then they get sucked over the top of the bile duct tube and my body is trying so hard to make it pass through but it just can't. So that's where the pain comes from. All that effort to push this stuck stone through the tube. And, if it IS one giant stone, there is NO WAY it will fit!

December 17th...No eating after 8 pm. Got it. I'm starting to get nervous. I mean, it's surgery. Any surgery is nerve-racking. Add in the fact that I have a 6 week old that hasn't taken a bottle yet and I'm nervous.

December 18th...Girls are at school, Drake is at home with Nana and Sophia is with us at

the hospital. We have an elaborate plan to feed her before they take me back. That way, if she refuses the bottle, at least he could maybe hold her off until I'm out of surgery, and then I can try to give it to her. I know with anesthesia and such, I'll need to pump and dump for awhile, so she has to take a bottle. Lord please, she has to take that bottle. The nurse gets me all set up. IV in place. I talk to the surgeon, the anesthesiologist...All is well. We are ready. I tear up as I kiss my tiny babe and husband goodbye. You read about simple procedures going wrong and mama bleeds out on the table and the last thing she said to her husband was "I think you should shave" or something ridiculous. I know, I know, "Rachel, don't think like that! Why would you think that?!" I see it in Hubs' eyes- you'll be fine. And I'll keep saying it til you believe it. I give Soph another kiss. Please take your bottle, baby. I'll be back soon. I walk back to the operating room, climb up on the table, the nurse takes my glasses, I'm anxious, for sure. The anesthesiologist is talking about the glory days at Iowa State back in the 80s...and then I'm out. Just like that.

I remember waking up with an oxygen tube in my nose and seeing a wall and a screen. Ow. Then it comes out my mouth..."Ow". The nurse turns, "Oh you're awake. I know it hurts. Let's get you something for the pain." I ask- "How did it go? Am I doing ok?" The nurse responds- "Everything went well. And your stats are looking good." I hear another patient being rolled in. She's just waking up and she is losing it over how much pain she is in. Yikes, I think, I wonder what procedure she had done. I now understand why they have the beds facing the walls. My throat is so dry. I later realize it's from the tube that was down my throat. As soon as I'm fully awake, they wheel me to another recovery area. One where my hubs and baby can come see me. We arrive at the "room"...an area with a recliner, a table and a curtain as the door. They park the bed and advise me to use my arms to pull myself up and get into the chair. I give the nurse a look. You expect me to move myself from here to there. I have four lacerations in my abdomen and I'm supposed to get from this reclined position to that chair on my own. Lord, help me. It hurts, but I make it to the chair. They ask

if I'm ready to eat some toast, I ask for my husband and daughter. Both arrive in a timely manner. I drink my Sierra Mist while Hubs holds Sophia close to me. Sierra Mist was my favorite drink...it reminded me of when Drake was born. The girls brought me a lot of Sierra Mist when they visited. Now, it leaves a bad taste in my brain. I eat my toast, drink my soda. Hubs and I talk about how it went.

While I was getting stitched up, the surgeon reported to Hubs that it went very well. He said my gall bladder was pretty sick but he got in and out in 20 minutes. And, Hubs tells me that Sophia drank her bottle like a champ! It seems like the day went flawlessly and now I just needed to focus on healing from surgery.

A quick stop at Target for some pain management and we are headed home. To heal. To

rest. To bounce back. At least that's the plan...