Salute Your Surgeon

Annoying things that need to be removed:

1) Obnoxious sports fans

2)  The "robot lady" aka automated voice system for ANY company you call 

3) Being asked for your email address before EVERY transaction from big to miniscule

"Oh, you'd like to buy this single q-tip?  Can I have your - "

"Sure, it's stopemailingmecrap@gmail.com."

And last, but certainly not least, we have gallstones.  They are very annoying.  And must be removed. …and I wish that procedure were as cheap as a q-tip.

I begin this story with a fairy tale about godmothers gallstones.

A long, long time ago, in the year 1984 a princess named Katharine was born.  She was delegated to 'maid' after the arrival of her little girl, but for the purposes of this story we'll still refer to her as the princess.

Some of her fondest memories over the years include lane night rides to the McDonald's drive thru, seeing Pizza Hut through decades of promotions (Big Foot pizza, anyone?), and foot long hot dogs from Hubbard House/Weiner King in Dillon.

One day, many years later, the royal medical staff made quite the discovery: the princess had gallstones, and she needed to have her gallbladder removed.  I'll take the rest of the story from here on the 2014 blog.

ME?!  Have my gallbladder surgically removed at the age of 29?!?  Unbelievable.  Some doctors said that it could be attributed to my pregnancy.  More complications after pregnancy??? You may remember that right after I had Emerson I had bronchitis, a 102 fever, kidney stones, and several other issues.  It's now ten months later, and I'm not out of the woods yet.  At this rate they'll still be finding "pregnancy related issues" during my autopsy.

I really had to wrap my head around this foreign concept, and as I started to process it my mind began taking me down memory lane.  After all, my gallbladder had been with me through it ALL- the good and the bad, that awkward middle school age, high school, etc.  

And so I thought a letter was appropriate.

Dear gallbladder,

     I do not have the guts (pun intended, I suppose?) to say this in person, as anesthesia would not allow, so I am taking it upon myself to bid you farewell via this letter.  You, little buddy, have been with me since the beginning of time.  Really.  I'm sorry my Mom did all that screaming when I came into the world.  You were there when I learned to walk, ride a bike, drive a car, and all the other mishaps in between.  You've heard me argue strongly debate with my family members.  You graduated high school with me and flipped around during many a cheerleading and dance routine.  You've listened to hours of Beethoven and had a front row seat (whether or not it was by choice) to all of my musical endeavors.  I dragged you to the SAT (and then to the mall afterwards), you and I have enjoyed many a late night snack, and sometimes you were the only other person to know our little secret.  You walked down the aisle with me on my wedding day (along with my Dad).  You took part in the father/daughter/gallbladder dance (tell that to the next DJ), and you were even Emerson's temporary roommate while I was pregnant.

     Sadly, however, it is time for us to part.  It is not you; it's me.  I can't handle your tantrums anymore. You've grown senile in your old age, and you are starting to hurt me.  Any rebuttal from you will have to be taken up with Dr. Craft.  I bid you farewell and thank you for your friendship.

Fondly,

Katharine

'Twas the night before surgery, and my precious mother, Ann, came to the rescue.

The morning of the operation Ryan whisked me away (extremely early, in his usual fashion) to the hospital.  I insisted on holding Emerson one last time before we left, since I wouldn't get to pick her up again for 1-2 weeks : (.

I was told a million times not to eat or drink anything that morning before arriving, but I couldn't help but wonder how they'd possibly know if I ate ONE lousy pink Starburst? In case you're wondering, I didn't.

Then came the obligatory hospital pre-op selfie.

Upon my arrival they made sure I was conscious enough to make a payment withstand the operation, and I signed a few brief papers.

Then it was time for surgical preparation.  I had two of the sweetest nurses EVER, and it turns out that one of them is best friends with a former coworker of mine.  The odds seemed to be in my favor.  I had briefly read about the surgical procedure online but tried not to do too much "research."  After all, a headache on Web MD will send you straight to your attorney to write up a will, so I didn't want to get too crazy on Google.  

The nurses started telling me what to expect during my recovery.  "You will be pumped up with a 'surgical gas', and afterwards you will actually have gas pain in your shoulders."

Oh, really?  Well that's nothing a little armpit flatulence won't take care of.  Or so I thought...

If only it were that easy. But, my friends, it was so much more serious than that. I soon talked with the surgeon for a few moments and couldn't help but wonder…

What happens in a surgeon's home the night before an operation?  What if his neighbor has a loud, barking dog, and he didn't get enough sleep?  Or worse…what if he has a newborn baby at home and was up rocking and making bottles at 3:00 am?

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!"

Sorry for putting that Pepsi in your IV, Mr. Johnson.  My son had colic last night; you know how THAT is!

 

Does no one else think of these things??? And what about Anesthesiologists.  Are they trustworthy?  Those people could wreak havoc on the world.  Have you ever been asked a question that you didn't want to answer or been suddenly met with confrontation?  Just poke the arm of the nearest person with a needle, and they'll forget the whole thing happened.  This could really be effective during arguments.

"KATHARINE, I TOLD YOU TO CLEAN OUT THAT CLOSET, OR ELSE…"

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

What was that again, Ryan?

But before I could do too much thinking my own anesthesiologist started giving me "the juice."  Some of my last thoughts before being gallbladder-less are as follows:

It is COLD in this surgery room.  GOOD LAWD!

Hi, I'm the abominable Snowman here for your abdominal surgery.  Say that five times fast.

My eyes staring crossing, and I saw an extremely bright light.  I started to see several dots forming together, but instead of the face of Jesus it was actually the hospital bill with many zeroes after it.

They were digging in my stomach for gold.

They put a breathing mask on me, and that was it.  POOF.  I was out like that strand of Christmas lights from last year that you thought would work.  When I was awakened in recovery I was certain that I had been hit by a fleet of Mack trucks.  MORE PAIN MEDS, PLEASE!!! 

"Oh, you'll feel so much better after the surgery," they said. "It'll be nothing," they said...

I was in absolute agony.  I was then wheeled back to my original place, and my Mom and Ryan came in to see me.  I was twisting and writhing in pain, and I felt SO PUFFY from the air from surgery.

Here is my photo identification for my next driver's license renewal.

License restrictions: needs water to breathe.

The nurses were so kind and did whatever they could to help me.  My grandparents also came to see me.  It was a stark difference from the last time they visited me in the hospital…

How precious, Jim! Look at that little thing.

Then I started feeling very sick because of the pain medicine, and they gave me alcohol wipes to sniff to take away the nausea.  Who knew??  I was in such pain when I left that I cried harder than the kid who went to Toys R' Us on his Birthday and found out that the last toy he wanted had been sold.

Our ride home was a vague memory of flashing lights and painful moans.  Then Ryan escorted me in the house.

I was so, so sore, sick, and completely out of it.  My phone and email messages- DESPITE my seemingly useless out-of-office message, were constantly going off with work related issues, and I wanted to send it on a one way rocket to Jupiter.  However, all other contact from friends and family was most welcome. Both my Dad and Ryan's parents came later and were just as much help.  But Sunday was-a-comin', and this particular Sunday was no walk in the park.

I always hesitate to take pain medication unless I absolutely need it, because it usually makes me sick, but I also had Zofran to help with nausea.  At around 9:00 that Sunday morning I laid down on the couch, because the room was literally spinning for no reason.  I had taken the medicine 3.5 hours prior with food, but it felt as if I'd just gotten off this ride.

Then- after Ryan's insisting- I walked upstairs to get in our bed.

Whew, that was close.  I was crying and told Ryan that there must have been rat poison in my juice at breakfast.  But you see, if I wasn't so dramatic about EVERYTHING else, he might be more inclined to take my complaints more seriously.

I phoned a doctor on call and waited an hour for a call back, because he was in an operation…probably taking out someone else's gallbladder, for all I knew.  When I described my symptoms he said that it didn't sound normal and to go to the nearest ER.  Again?!??  Ryan's parents had already left, so I called my Mom & Dad and within ten minutes they were on the road to Columbia.

Ryan drove me to the ER in such haste that we left with not so much as an extra diaper for Emerson.  They saw me quickly but had me sit back in the waiting room, because they were "out of rooms."

What was this, the nativity story???

Finally I went back, and I was dehydrated and dizzy, which made the blood work MOST difficult, as if I take kindly to it anyway.  Within ten minutes the nurse had blown a vein in my hand, and I had three additional needle marks on my arms.  I officially had more problems than I had when I arrived.  And at what cost?!

Can someone please call ET? I need to go home.

After being a victim of attempted murder, having an EKG, and other tests the same nurse that told me I had gallstones two weeks prior delivered the news on my latest crusade: I had Vertigo.

It is not a dance, but it does sound like one.

At least I had these folks with me as I received the news.

We left at around 7:00 PM, and my parents were going to drop me off on their way back to Dillon.  It was then suggested that they take Emerson with them for a few days while I recovered and Ryan worked.  But…be without her for four days?? Was I ready for that?  It almost made me want to cry.  Then Ryan said, "Why don't you go with them?  I won't be here during the day anyway, and you can't drive.  You'll have people around to help you."  The more I thought about it the more logical it sounded: a week retreat.  So I agreed.  And we packed up a million things and got back to Dillon at 11:00 that night.  But this is a Carlson story.  So it's not over yet.

At 2:30 that morning my Dad got a call from my grandmother.  She was at the hospital with my grandfather, who was having a heart attack.  A nurse got on the phone and said that he needed to get there quickly; it was dire.

With less than two hours of sleep my Dad got back on the road to Columbia, where Papa had a stent put in later that morning.  By the time I woke up at 8:00 and found out about it he was already much better.  Then my Dad had to drive an hour away again to teach a course.

Was this real life???

We have come to destroy your health.

I also ruined a new tire I got after accidentally hitting a curb.  There went another $200.  And Emerson knocked my brand new iPhone (an insurance replacement after the LAST one was cracked) on the kitchen floor, breaking it again.

It. was. CRAZY.  And yet in spite of it all I am beyond grateful that my situation was temporary and that the Lord intervened and had his hand on my grandfather.  Despite everything our blessings were more than evident: our parents' safe trips back and forth, my blood work being normal, Papa's surgery being over and successful.  I could keep going. My Dad prayed for us over a meal later that week and thanked God for doing the ultimate operation on us: removing our sins.  

I am grateful to Him for SO. MANY. THINGS.

Like Emerson turning ten months old…

"To celebrate month ten we dressed like a hen!"

And the excellent care I received…

And moments like this when all is right with the world...

Sleep in Heavenly peace

Since my operation it seems like everyone I talk to has had their gallbladder removed.  It's apparently a nationwide epidemic.

What are they doing with all these gallbladders, anyway??? Is there a landfill somewhere with a million of them? Are they being sold on Ebay?  Or worse…your local Wal-Mart shelf?

After all, they do sell these.  Where do you draw the line?

"Our two-for-one special today includes Pigs Feet & your choice of frog legs or a gallbladder."

Don't even THINK about it, Mama.

And during the exact time of my operation about 60 miles away one of my best friends was in the hospital as well…having a baby girl!!!

We can hardly wait to meet Charlotte.  We have a big weekend ahead!

Now that September is upon us the excitement keeps coming. I had a fabulous lunch recently with these lovely ladies for Abi's Birthday. Karen and Dorothy came to see me, I got many "get well" calls, messages, and cards in the mail, along with an awesome edible arrangement from sweet Megan & Josh.  

Sometimes things like this remind us just how loved we really are. 

Ryan was stoked to have Emerson put on her cheerleading outfit for her first USC game.  Let's not discuss the outcome, but at least the pictures were good.  …and somewhere Poppy's heart was breaking.

2014 Gamecock/Clemson defense.  If I pick on both teams I won't risk angering anyone.

For Labor Day we decided to take Emerson on her first trip to the zoo. Things we learned on our trip:

Selfies with gorillas in the back ground are pretty awesome.  So are elephants and flamingos.

Emerson thinks that petting goats is gross.  Please check out that stank face.  Hilarious!!!

Sitting on animals is funny.

But perhaps the best attraction was the air conditioner in the car after a 102 degree day!!!

We are parked in the lot during these photos.

So many of you have been a blessing to me- not just in the past couple of weeks but for years.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Stop what you're doing right now and count your blessings!

And get cracking!