I HATE BEING IN HOSPITAL and will do all I can to not go in. However, the ending of last year, I knew that something was not right and had no choice but get my husband to take me to hospital.
You should have seen my face when the chap, who was searching for the issue, said: you can discuss this with the surgeon. What? Excuse me? Did I hear right? Are you saying that I need to be operated on? Yes, you have a gallstone stuck in your bile duct. Now, all this was in French and so, what I thought he said was: too much salt and it has caused a blockage and my mind frantically searches the evidence that I have been eating too much salt and all I came back with: well, not exactly careful with salt, because I am sure salt is not bad for you, but obviously I am wrong and I groaned, but was DETERMINED to not be operated on.
I met the surgeon, who spoke a bit of English and then he explained exactly the problem; nothing to do with salt ( just an expression they refer to for gallstones)
He said to me that if the pain diminishes and the nausea, he would send me home with medication. I hate medication, but it was the better of the two evils and so, I went out of my way, to be a good girl and take my medicine; well ok, it was going through a drip.
I had the usage of my phone and so, could look up information on the gallbladder and the alarm bells went off. If the liver produces bile that the gallbladder saves and the gallbladder is removed and bile is redirected to the stomach, but the stomach is in a bad way, how on earth can this work? So, I stuck my heels in and refused point blank to be operated on. The surgeon even got a picture of the liver and gallbladder and stomach, but would not give me the information I required!
When it was the night before the decision to operate or send her home? He asked how I felt and I said with a huge satisfied grin. Pain has gone and nausea too and he equally looked smug and pointed to my drip and said: but of course, because they are pain relievers and anti nausea and I stuck my tongue out and said: that is not fair! I think the pain relievers were making me into a person I am not usually like, but it sure made everyone smile at me and that felt good.
It was my good friend who, all that time, been trying to be there for me. Putting up with my ranting. She then said in text: you know, that the acid can come from the gallbladder? No, I did not know this? So, again, research time and whoa what did I find?
So, the anetheist ( excuse terrible spelling) appeared ( lovely lady) and I nodded and said she can tell the surgeon that I will go a head with the operation. Obviously, they were just biding their time, but as usual, they did not give me the information I had found, and if they had, they would have had a more pliable patient.
I coped pretty well with this hospital stay. The last one, was 8 days and due to social phobia, I did not once venture outside my room and so, felt stifled and very scared. I felt that I was going to be there for an eternity.
Again, it had to be related to the pain relievers, because for some bizarre reason, I was BLOWING KISSES at the nurses, as they closed the door! I had this insane need to do that and felt MORTIFIED afterwards, but no matter, it happened again and again.
I think they admired me, because I spoke in French and because I was determined to get better, as I struggled out of bed, despite the pain. I went from being doubled over, to standing straight.
One of the highlights of my stay was when I woke up from the daze of being put under ( that is nasty; feels so uncomfortable), they held my head as I drank some water, accept I didn't! I spat it out, due to the severity of the pain in my throat. I did not connect that there had been a tube there, to keep my airways open! Then suddenly, I felt this amazing coolness on my lips and the most glorious taste. LEMON soaked cotton buds. I wanted to eat it, but she whipped it away and I was groaning in frustration. I managed to look on the table and saw a packet with 4 more. I did think: why did you not do that to begin with? I looked again several hours and they had removed them!!!
A hilarous episode accured which had the nurses in tears with merth. It was night time, several hours after my op and in the dark, a nurse picked up something and rattled it and I groaned and said: not now please. I had been given so many tablets to take, I just did not want anymore. So, later on, she did it again and this time, I grabbed it and was just about to swallow the tablets, when I heard: NON and it was whipped out of my hand! THEY WERE MY GALLSTONES. The nurses were laughing so much and even more, when I said: that would be a bad idea; I do not fancy another operation and we all laughed and I did not feel mortified!
Overall not a bad experience and living happily without a gallbladder and acid reduced hugely AND just to pass on this information. Honey heals the esophecus ( again, excuse bad spelling) and stomach. Mine were in a dreadful way, with acid erosion, but continuous use of honey, instead of sugar, has reversed it. I only found this out, when I needed information on an endiscopy I had fairly recently and I had not bothered to look, because as far as I was concerned, all was bad news. I did look and did a double take! My stomach: normal and so forth and now I know why the chap who did this, reacted so blase about it all, because there was no need to react anyway.