Of Gallbladders and Gall

4 02 2015

A few quick notes to update the world on my happenings. Shortly after my last post, I ended up in the hospital. Long story short, the week of Thanksgiving I went to bed with what I can only describe as the worst heartburn ever, and it progressively got worse. By morning, I was at Urgent Care, and by mid afternoon I was in the Emergency Room (also known as the WalMart of medicine.)

During the NINE hours we sat in the ER, we met some interesting characters. The woman complaining of chest pain, certain she was having a heart attack, sat in the waiting room with a bag of french fries, and a sack of chocolates and left her young daughter to “listen for them to call me” while she went outside to smoke. A drug seeker in the next room wailed like a stuck pig at the top of her lungs, so great was her “pain”, until the doctor came in and called her bluff and told her to go home. Miraculously, the wailing pain ceased as she stormed off.

Speaking of drugs…if you find yourself in my position, take whatever the doctors offer! Once I was placed in an actual examining room, the doctor on call asked if I needed anything for my pain. At the moment, I didn’t. But fifteen minutes later I did, and naturally there was no one to be found for an hour.

Tests were done, blood was drawn, and I discovered I had a badly infected gall bladder containing an enormous stone. So up I went, to a private room (thank you Jesus), to wait for surgery. Which did not happen til 5 o clock the next day. The worst part of this waiting was the hunger. I hadn’t eaten since dinner now two days earlier. Once I pulled through the procedure, the bland turkey sandwich and soggy peaches were like a five star meal.

Recovery was fairly quick, I suppose, and I was back to work a week later. I still can’t eat certain things without getting sick, but they are all things I shouldn’t eat anyway (I do miss some french fries though.)

The worst part of the whole experience has been getting the damned insurance company to pay for it. See, I joined a new group policy on November 1st. The group had already decided to NOT renew that policy and move the group to a different carrier effective December 1st. So naturally the old company has been trying everything not to pay the 20-some thousand dollar bill their customer of four weeks sent them. The gall of them. Ba Dum Bum.

You may be wondering how Mama is. The truth is, I really don’t know. I’ve talked to her once since October. Well, twice. But the second time was an accident. I had a missed call from an unknown number in her area code one afternoon, and an hour or so later, as I was strolling through Lowe’s trying to find anchors to hold up some new shelves, I suddenly hear her voice shrieking my name. Momentary panic attack, but I soon realized it was coming from my pocket, and I’d somehow butt dialed that missed number. The short version of the conversation is that she is the same shit show she has always been…the now over two year drama of getting a drivers license continues. Her phone was disconnected. (Again because she was wronged by the cell phone company, certainly not because she didn’t pay her damn bill.) She’s trying to con someone on Grandma’s street to “rent to own” her a house they have. (Run, Grandma’s neighbor, RUN!) and she and Kenny are back together for the 17th time. Reports come from my aunty today that she is staying at Grandma’s because she got into a fight (like a real physical fight) with one of the trailer park ladies, and she is naturally milking it for all its worth by relying on a cane to get around.

 

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