My Emergency Cholecystectomy - A Doctor's Perspective on Gratitude and the meaning of my life

There are mornings when I wake up and experience tears laying beside my 5 year old daughter, feeling the most intense experience of gratitude I have ever known. Who am I to have been blessed enough to hold this dear life in my hands....

Who am I ?

On Thursday, August 17th, 2017, I woke up my usual self and quickly degraded to a sense of ache in my upper abdomen.
Fatigue, I thought...I am a hard worker, dedicated to every second of my life. I give a lot to those in need as a physician, a mama, a wife, a friend, I work out at the gym 4-5 days per week.... I must take time for myself to lie down when I get home, I thought...time to give to me through rest.

Working through that day, I saw a half a dozen patients..tended to needs, enjoyed my day and the whole time felt the abdominal ache. It was minor in the morning, a 3 out of 10 (Doctors love grading pains...0 = no pain, 10 = the most you have ever felt)....by 330pm, just after my last patient, the pain intensified quickly to an 8 out of 10...I was hurting.
Quickly, I went to pick up my daughter from daycare...quickly I was home and laid in bed with a heating pad on my tummy.
This was getting worse, and with cold chills waving over my skin, I let my husband know I was headed to emerg...something wasn't right, I could feel it deep into my core. There was no ignoring this.

Typical style of denial, I spent 10 minutes locked in the bathroom stall of the hospital doing a mental checklist to see that I felt justified taking this time with other physicians, allowing them to poke and prod and determine the course of action to my emergency. I dove into my waves of self doubt and decided to be brave, willing and vulnerable. Here comes the Naturopathic Doctor with a stomach ache - sigh.

The doctor's abdominal palpation must have pushed back the gallstone from the duct of the gallbladder because immediately after the examination, my pain dropped right back down to the 3 out of 10 it had been all day. Relief !
I drank a pink lady, under the doctors prescription....a bitter tasting mixture of a translucent, bright pink colored short-acting anaesthetic floating mysteriously above the thick white goop of an antacid. Swallow it quickly, I was told, or else it will quickly numb your mouth and you won't be able to swallow it. This pink lady was foul tasting and it made my tongue go immediately numb...such a weird oral feeling...my punch to the gut was still there...the pink lady was of no help other than to tell us it wasn't gastritis or a reflux issue. The blood test did lead to the diagnosis of high white blood cells and a recommendation to come back the next day to get an ultrasound to further determine the cause of my potential infection. More blood work, they said, as they passed me the lab requisition ticket to the front of the line to the next day's hospital adventure.

My birthday ! I woke the morning of August 18th, 2017, one year older. I am now 41. Straight, smack dab in the middle of the statistics for what qualifies me for having an expired gallbladder. Female, 40, fertile....just not fat. Three out of four checkmarks is pretty good. Here we go....

Ultrasound - yes, gallstones...and in particular, one extremely large one blocking the bile duct. Too large to do anything but fear it, cower to it, cut it the hell out.
Blood work - I am in stable shape this morning, the white blood cells had returned to normal levels. Still feeling like I had been punched in the gut in the boxing match of my life, but bearable, tolerable, my mind is clear.
And this....

Upon pulling this ticket, assuming my place in the line to get bloodwork, here is my number. 9-11
Ah, yes, today is the day, I thought.
Happy Birthday ! You will be officially at least 10 ounces lighter automatically for having just turned 41.
Who needs their gallbladder, anyways ?!? LOL
Suddenly the weight of emergent action embraced me. This sign is significant to me.

I fasted that day...hooked up to the above, cheery pink IV. Dreaming of the deep fried sushi that I was not longer going to celebrate by eating with my friends on my one day a year I have the automatic free license to do what I want. With wine, for sure.....and most likely a few shots of tequila as the birthday night progressed.
Nope...these day dreams hovered over my liquid snack of 0.9% sodium chloride and electrolytes....my pre-workout to the challenge that lie ahead.

Fortunately for me, I was in tolerable discomfort and so the day was spent watching my phone ding and ding and ding with messages celebrating me on the birthday that I laid there staring at the clouds passing by my window and waiting. Waiting for the unknown.
As soon as the surgeon offered me the chance to have the surgery that day...one day before he left on vacation, I was so grateful.
Gratitude. Its magic washes over me. Yes, I said...yes I am willing.
Today, I thought, is perfect...I booked the day off ! I have no patients, no places I have to be...and the weekend is here. Two full days to be a lump on a log....this was planned perfectly.... Perfectly Imperfect
Because I wasn't suffering, I was postponed for the next morning due to the distressing other emergencies arriving that Friday. I was stable and low on the totem pole of triage. I went home that night with strict instructions not to eat...clear fluids only. And I was grateful

The surgery was routine. I was everything that was expected and went in and out of that surgery with skilled momentum.
The pain upon waking was sooooo intense. It took 2 doses of fentanyl, 1 dose of hydromorph and 1 dose of toradol to stop my feet from twitching and my mouth from moaning. The most prescription drugs my body has ever seen thus far.
And I rested.

I have healed and am still healing, so I am not allowed to lift heavy for another 2 weeks or so. I rested for three days and back to work, the dedicated doctor that I am. Moving slowly, shuffling along, hunched a bit forward....physically guarding, energetically protecting my bruised intestines and four areas of stitching post laparopscopic cholecystectomy. One bruise around the most traumatized superficial stitch near my bellybutton took 4 days to make its way to the surface of my abdomen - the bruising was deep.

Before this event, I had no chronic issues with my gallbladder. I did not suffer. I am willing to see this as a blessing. For reasons I analyze every day, I recognize that my time arrived. I stepped through the door that opened and never did I question the intelligence behind it. I trusted, I embraced, I emerged.

Life Lesson, Thank You.
Welcome all that is 41, I am stronger because of You
This is who I am.