The Misadventures of my Gall Bladder
Ok, so you all probably knew this was coming: the whole story of what has happened to me in the past few weeks in the futile belief that people care.
I’d been having severe stomach pains for months, been to the doctors about 6 times, who insisted that I had irritable bowel syndrome and that it was brought on from stress of the new job, new area, meeting new people etc. I thought that was a laugh, I ‘m normally about as stressed as Matt would be if someone handed him a beer. But anyway I went along with it as the symptoms seemed to fit. That was until one night the dreadful pains were severe and didn’t go away, so off to the hospital I trundled. I thought I’d get some strong painkillers and be on my way, but after several hours of questions, tests, being a general lab rat, they put me in a ward.
After a couple of days I got what most guys don’t ever get to do – be a pregnant woman. Great fun, jelly on my belly, (which is probably nowhere near as tasty as the popular jelly beans) and I got to see my ‘baby’ gall bladder. Before I could think of any names for it, the doctor pointed out the layers of stones and the inflammation and said it’d probably have to go.
I’ve just realised how boring this post is…perhaps my blog mojo was stored in my gall bladder or perhaps that it’s because I’ve broken my chronological madness on here. I had a good draft of Christmas and New Year before this hospital one has ruined proceedings! Well anyway I had all of a day to worry about a couple of sweaty guys cutting into me to have a look but the op was put back a day because a couple of elderly women also needed the op and took priority. Worrying more and regretting watching those many episodes of Scrubs at uni, (damn you Geffy!) the time finally came. The way they put me to sleep was nothing like the movies, though the surgeon pleasantly asked me to think of something nice to dream about. No Harold Bishop on a Quality Street addiction helpine this time. There was also counting backwards malarky, just a stealthy injection as they had probably heard the rumours about how dreadful I am with needles, cold in my arm, pins and needles and waking up with a gas mask on over an hour later, wondering if they’d begun yet.
The worst part of it was after I’d woken up properly and been told that it was a success and everything, then they go and tell me that I have to change my eating habits and everything. I really started to worry then, because I have a sad life, I don’t have a girlfriend and eating is one of my few enjoyments I get out of life! One nurse even implied that I may never be able to eat a burger, enjoy a fish and chips or have a bbq ever again. I almost had a heart attack at this news! Wonder why they dont tell you all of this before…
Everything was a bit of a blur I guess, I felt that most of the time I was part man, part machine…there were wires everywhere, and I guess I’ll stop before I get too crude. A big thanks to everyone who successfully or unsuccessfully visited/contacted me, even if I did look like a bearded loon because I didn’t have the foresight to bring any toiletries with me. One of the notable visitees, a certain over-generous person which further emphasise my quote of saying how good it’d be to be his girlfriend 
You may well wonder if the lack of a gall bladder implicates future heffing adventures, at the moment, yes it does. I’m forced to eat dreadful healthy food that I would think twice about feeding to a rabbit and I’m looking forward to training my stomach to be able to beat Tom in a future heffing competition. Weight loss is a nice side effect, but I’d rather be doing it on my own terms and be able to eat what I want.
Since being at home in Kettering and going to the doctors I have found that there are the 5 F’s that defines the majority of people that get their gall bladder removed:
- Fat
- Female
- Fourty
- Fertile
- Flatulent
Whilst I can probably cross off Fat…in fact I’ll do that as I barely ever use strikethroughs:
- Fat
- Female
- Fourty
- Fertile
- Flatulent
But numerous doctors have kindly told me that I was incredibly unlucky as I don’t fit the profile to have gall stones at all, which has me feeling a lot more annoyed!
Whilst being in hospital I was thinking about life in Watford and how I’m not really enjoying either work or the fact that I’m very isolated and have now decided to pack it all in and do something new as life isn’t worth living for me here. I’m not sure people will be too happy after I go into work on Monday after having so much time off and presenting them with a gift of a 4 week notice, but hey.
To end with I’m going to be melodromatic. If you’ll all join me in a moments silence to celebrate the life of my gall bladder and all the lovely heffing it aided me in.
James’ Gall bladder 1983-2007
A special hello to Alice who I understand also lacks a gall bladder and I hope will not deny all of this and say that having your gall bladder removed is a pleasant experience!
Oh! Another thing, will anyone join me in starting a national strikethrough day?! Put one on your blogs somewhere, I barely every see them at all! What about this: Strikey, bold and italic