Paging Dr. Rod Serling

**Disclaimer...(I know, another one) The following post contains a four-letter word. Those with delicate ears or queasy stomachs might want to head over to ebay or something.

Over the years, I've had the dubious honor of dealing with a cantakerous gallbladder. Once in a while, it flairs up for about a week - causing me tummy pain, trouble and an over all feeling of being run over by a mack truck. Another attack began Saturday...and still wasn't gone as of yesterday morning. A call to my doctor ended with me being told to go the the E.R. Great...just great.

As you know, my ya-ya's and I are heading up to the mountain cabin tomorrow. I don't have time to have surgery. I don't have time to have an operation. I don't have time to 'be sick'. So I told myself that I could heal my little organ and all would be well....while thoughts of being out in the middle of nowhere and needing to go to the hospital loomed in the back of my mind.

Last night, my book club met at Mimi's to discuss 'Julie and Julia'. Ms. K had sent us all the cutest little red-checked aprons (complete with minature rolling pin) for our evening and we all showed up, dressed like french cooks! What a great group of gals! Some faces were back and some were new and the evening was just perfect!

Until the french onion soup.

And salad.

Uh-oh.

I'm not feeling so well.

As the discussion went on, I got whiter. I turned to ya-ya N and said, "I think we need to go to the emergency room." So we did. R and N accompanied me there, while J and K were coming along, too.

Now, as most of you know, that is not a fun place to be. It's full of sick people. And 'icky' stuff.
I don't have time to sit in an e.r. I'm going on vacation! I have stuff to do. I must say, though, I was attended to in a pretty fast fashion. After doing vitals and such, they were concerned, as was I and the gals, that my gallbladder was not a happy one and surgery was just around the corner. I'll be honest. This didn't sit well with me. I don't have time for this. I'm going on vacation Thursday!

I was hooked up to an i.v.. given morphine for the pain, an anti-nausea medication, blood work drawn to check my gallbladder, pancreas and liver enzymes, to see if I was having a heart attack (since I am over 45), an EKG and last but not least...a sonogram to look for stones or other things that would be causing my situation and to confirm that it's time to remove this little beast!

The morphine made me feel loopy. The sonogram made me begin to panic...I was sure that the little white line on the screen was a laceration to my liver and that I was just months away from a certain fate. (Uh..they did say that the morphine can make you 'emotional'...as if I weren't already!) Everywhere I went I had to carry my little saline bag/i.v. ... and my ya-ya's were gracious enough to hang it up on the wall hook each time.

Finally, I was taken back to an examination room where the doctor was going to come in and give me the news - of which I was sure was...."Nasty gallbladder, prep for surgery, blah blah blah." We waited. And waited. And waited.

Oh....here he comes.... "God, please help me be calm and make it through the surgery and not let it be anything fatal and take care of my daughter should things not go right."

He asked me some questions about my symptoms. He tapped on my tummy.... here....and there (points to spots with finger)... He listened to my heart, my lungs. He looked at all of my lab work and the radiologist report from my ultrasound. I braced myself for the horrid news...dabbing my tears with the corner of my hospital blanket. Then here came his diagnosis, which none of us were prepared for...

'You're constipated.'

......

.....

"I'm what?"

Dr. Brad - 'You're constipated. Your test results are perfect and clear. But when I do this (taps again on my tummy)...hear that 'drum' sound? You're backed up. Your symptoms can mimick a gall bladder attack and explain the pain you've been having.'

Me - 'You mean.... I'm full of shit ??!!????'

Dr. Brad - 'Well, that's not really the medical term for it, but sure!'

Me - 'You mean... no surgery???? I can go on vacation Thursday???"

Dr. Brad - 'That's right!"

Tears of joy! Relief and happy dancing! Prayers of gratitude given! Smiles and hugs! Tubes and monitors unhooked!! Clothes put back on!

Then an ornery little thought strolls through the examine room...
My friends have earned the right to be able to tell me that I'm full of shit....
and I can't argue.

You should see the smiles on the faces around me.