The pg test

and the world's worst pic

Second surgery rehash! (And here's the ONLY pic Tim got to put with my essay and his comment when he texted it over to me. AHEM.)

Ok – The gallbladder surgery went much smoother. But it was much more involved than the ERCP last week, when they just knocked me out and drug me around by my hair. This time, they tucked my hair into a cap and everything. I was also staged for almost 2 hours, waiting. I realized that last week’s was child’s play – I only needed a scope down my throat and a little slice in my bile duct – easy peasy! This one involved harvesting an organ. This would prove to involve a lot more of everything…

First, they took me back to my own pre-op waiting room – still, with a curtain door – but I had my own TV. Which I thought was a nice touch, but I should have seen it for the red flag it was – that I would be watching at least one full episode of Friends in there, putting Tim into his own kind of pain.

My first nurse asked me to stop into the bathroom to pee in a cup – for a pregnancy test of all things. I laughed at her – at age 49, those days were far gon, but she insisted. Protocol! It will only take a second! You never know! (Oh, I KNOW.)

So, I took a pregnancy test, for the first time in my life, with zero anxiety.

Next, another nurse came in to run my IV. I warned her of my traumatic IV experience just 10 days before when it took 4 pokes and one hallelujah. But I assured her I was ready this time because I had been drinking (water) like a fish for days. I was hydrated to the EXTREME. Plus, she wrapped my arm in a warm blanket to fatten my veins. She actually got it in on the first try!

I was amazed and in awe, so much so, that I forgot to start picking out baby names.

Next, the anesthesiologist arrived. I had no questions for him and he was perplexed. I assured him that I had just had a “come to Jesus” moment with his colleague a mere 10 days ago, and had lived to write about it. All my questions were answered then and scuttled into the ether, which is where I wanted him to take me, and soon.

By now, we were getting close to the 3:30pm surgery time. I felt “ready” – who else was there to talk to? Except the doc himself.

But no, surprise! I had a new nurse arrive. Sarah, my first nurse and IV God, had gone home. (Don’t worry, before she left, I told her all about Michigan Girl and had her signed up for events on the spot. She said, “HIPAA means I have to ask you if I can say I know you when I show up?” I replied, “Oh, you’ve already seen my all, I think we know each other better than most.”).

So, the new nurse Natalie arrived. I liked her too, but I didn’t have time to sign her up, because she had some liquid to put in my IV that would highlight my gallbladder during surgery. However, it was vibrant green – and when I give her a long look – she asked me if I had seen the Marvel series “She-Hulk.” She then promised me, this is how I would awaken.

I’d never been more excited for an injection in my life.

My loving husband got me this winning shot.

Finally, the Doc showed. He was laughing and carrying on, straight from the OR. His ease and happiness made me think he hadn’t killed anyone yet that day. I was so relieved. I was his last patient of the day – and I figured he’d want a perfect score for April 10. Which meant he would handle She-Hulk with extreme care.

He gave me a rundown of my restrictions after surgery and stopped once to tell Tim – and there were witnesses – that I could NOT do household chores for SIX MONTHS. There was laughter and shouting – it was from me. Tim just played along. And when the doc tried to backtrack, I cut him short. “Sorry, no takebacks.”

Then, he disappeared and the last 2 nurses of pre-op appeared to take me down to OR. But – one of them, the lady – was concerned, looking over my chart.

“Did you take a pg test?” she asked.

Tim’s head snapped on a swivel. "WHAT?"

"It would be a miracle baby, wouldn’t it?” I said when I looked at him, squeezing his hand in hope.

Off the nurse went, laughing. “I will get your results!”

Two minutes later, she whipped open the curtain and announced, “It’s POSITIVE… that you aren’t pregnant!”

But can I tell you – her pause was a little LONG?

I got a little excited there. And Tim got a little (hulk) green.

Alas, the only thing delivered that day was a bouncing, 592-month-old gallbladder.

Post-op, I came back to life in a blur. I wasn’t green, as promised, first disappointment. Second, this nurse kept insisting I talk to her. No baby and no superpowers? This place was a bust. Nevertheless, with my memory a little blurry, I think I ALSO signed her up for Michigan Girl!!!!

Finally – I got home – safely – and had the world’s blandest diet – and no grilled cheese. They even gave me high-powered drugs to administer to myself at home. I pretty much went straight to bed, and when Tim showed up at 10 p.m. to join me, I jammed a pillow between us so he wouldn’t accidentally bump me. (It’s lore around here about the night after my Lasik surgery when Tim rolled over and PUNCHED ME IN THE EYE. Long story short – I didn’t divorce him).

However, twice in the night, I moved in my sleep and literally shout-gasped awake in pain. I poked my nurse's shoulder and said OMG! I AM DYING OVER HERE! He just said, “yay” and I thought, well, I guess, what’s he gonna do about it, the f-er? and went back to sleep.

But, when I asked him about it this morning, he didn’t know what I was talking about. He had heard none of it, despite MY CRIES OF PAIN and our VERBAL CONTACT. But when I started to critique his nursing skills, he cut me short with an apology – that he was sorry he slept as good as he does.

SIGH. If nothing else, he always makes me laugh. Which they say is the world’s best medicine – second only to that stuff they can give you through an IV! 🤣