Gall Woes

This past Sunday I had a beautiful breakfast with my Dad and Step Mom, Husband, and Daughter. We ate a quaint little place at the Redondo Beach Pier called Polly's on the Pier. It had been foggy that morning and just as we had arrived the sun shone through. We ate outside right on the tiny little fishing pier. The water lapped at the edge of the rocks making for a nice soundscape while we ate. We talked about future plans, we talked about the baby, we just had a thoughtful time.

Fast forward a few hours later I felt like I was going in to labor again. My stomach wrenched in pain, twisting, turning, stabbing pain. I reluctantly went to the ER, with husband and baby in tow. A sign read at the front door "No visitors 18 years and under are permitted in the Hospital." A little extreme but this is to help keep the little one's safe during flu season. Already I felt a pang of guilt having her there. I couldn't think of an alternative though. She refuses to drink from a bottle, and I'm her source of food.

My experience at ER last  year "bleeding while pregnant" had me in the waiting room for 7 hours! This year I was slightly luckier and only waited about an hour and a half. I was put in a room and the doctor came to see me half an hour after that. He asked me a few questions, glanced at my baby, and immediately ordered an ultrasound of my gall bladder. Apparently having gall stones is entirely common after having a baby; maybe something to do with escalated estrogen levels. The ultrasound confirmed the doctor's suspicions but my bloodwork is what dictated how the rest of my hospital stay would go. I had a silght infection racing through my blood and its at that point when they say "bye bye gallbladder." I was rushed into the operating room an hour after my diagnosis. The surgeon was a short, seemed to be 30 something right out of med school. But her name was Dr. Allie Jones and Allie is my nieces name so I felt at ease in a strange way. I sent my husband  off with the baby with instructions. I had complete trust in him, but I also felt a huge pain in my heart because I knew she wouldn't take well to the bottle. This really weighed heavy in my heart. Again I felt helpless.

I woke up choking on what I thought was phlegm and later after the anesthesia wore off I realized it was my uvula (you know that punching bag thing hanging down from your throat). woops!  My mom was there before and after my surgery. That was welcoming and I didn't feel so estranged with what was going on anymore. My mom and I have a way of downplaying major happenings in our lives with mediocre banter irrelevant to what's really going on. It's comforting.

The hard part was the night there without my baby, without my husband. I heard a man coughing hacking his brains out ALL night long. My piddly little incisions from the laproscopy seemed to pail in comparison to what he was going through. I received three punctures (one in my belly button) and one three inch incision below my sternum.  They used some sort of scifi super glu to hold my wounds together. It was 7am the next day and the nurses let my husband and baby come so I could feed her. She only took 1oz when I was gone for 15 hours. She gulped like crazy. All was in working order and the doctor let me go home. I was in my own bed by 10am on Monday. Me and my baby slept all day together. She ate and all was right.

Fast forward to Tuesday. I put the baby on her activity mat and noticed that I was looking quite yellow. My urine was almost a blood tinged color. I called the surgeon and she said I may have a bile leak and to come to ER right away. Round two of being in the hospital. This time they had to put me under again (8 hours after I came got to ER mind you.) I had an endoscopy which was to determine if I had any leaks, blockages, or loose gall stones. Earlier I had a catscan to see if the surgical clip was still in place or any fluids were in my gut. All looked good. To do the endoscopy I laid on my stomach (not too fun when you have incisions on your stomach) and they exray your insides. The good news is all was clear, but they did confirm I had acid reflux...who doesn't? So the true testament was my bloodwork the following morning.

I came in with a bilirubin level of 4, normally its a 1. The next morning's draw was a 2. They let me go home; said the stone must have passed on its own. All is right in my world now and my baby couldn't be happier to have me home. She is my ultimate sunshine.

Note to self in case I have surgery again....stay your ass in bed. For some reason I'm always on the go. I came home started cleaning house and even cooked dinner. I paid for it that night with a sore abdomen.