Okay I was not in a gang fight nor did I witness one. But the front half of my body looks like it was in one. Actually more like an old drunken sailor with a crooked grin. My body is not a wonderland these days. Had I known that I would literally start falling apart in my 30′s I may have drank less in my younger years. Maybe I would have skipped the mushrooms at that Phish concert in 1997. Maybe I would have cooked my steak a little longer or skipped the steak all together. Oh what little lies I like to tell myself, they make me feel good inside.

Sunday I arrived at Baylor Medical Center in Carrollton, Texas, I have since renamed the hospital don’t go there unless you want to die! I was either having a heart attack or my lung collapsed. In actuality I was having a gallbladder attack. Apparently my gallbladder stopped functioning some time ago and basically was a disease riddled sack just hanging out in my body. Fun stuff. They told me I needed it out asap, in the morning. I said sure why not cut, suck, laser, whatever that bad boy out of me.

My surgeon strolled into my ER room at around midnight. He told me a lovely story about an older gentlemen who recently died from his gallbladder removal. He became septic, they nicked a duct, and bile filled his abdomen. But I should be totally cool.

WTF!

I sat in that ER room till 3 am when a room upstairs finally became available. My surgery would get bumped 4 times. I ended up having nothing to drink or eat for days. No happy dance I didn’t lose any weight since I was attached to a saline drip the whole time. Bloated is the word to describe my current state. Bloated and pissed.

I had my surgery some time Tuesday afternoon. Over the next 24 hours I would argue with nurses over pain meds, my iv drip, not answering my pages, yada yada yada. By Wednesday morning I was done and I demanded they discharge me. Matt was seriously scoping out an escape route and I was trying to decide if I wanted to rip my iv out or just leave it in forever. Fun stuff.

I love medical science. I usually have a great amount of trust in doctors and nurses. I am in awe that anyone would ever want to be in the medical field. It is some crazy shit that they do. But Jesus Christ I have never in my life been so bummed and I nearly died 4 months ago. Speaking of which every night when I close my eyes I see the image of my husband holding my newborn son. The image that I thought was my last. The image that kept me from going back to my regular hospital.

Oh well it is done. I escaped. I lived well obviously.

Shit balls.