Post This Sense Not May Make

Photo by Artur Tumasjan on Unsplash

Hello everyone. FYI, the title is a bit of an exaggeration. The anaesthesia is mostly out of my brain at this point.

But it is true to say that this post was written without a gallbladder.

I came home from the surgery on time, as expected. The pain isn’t too bad, though bending over isn’t exactly fun. Four holes in my belly explain that issue. They’ve given me a prescription painkiller that helps, but the pain varies and I don’t always need it.

The procedure was pretty much uneventful as far as I know. I checked in at 6:15 am (first surgery of the day for my surgeon) and went into the room where they prepare you. I changed into the requisite gown and was assigned a chair. Nurses came and talked me through all my paperwork and confirmed everything. The anesthesiologist did the same, and then the surgeon. They inserted an IV into the back of my left hand and started me on a saline drip. Just before going in they added an antibiotic.

Amusingly they have patients walk from there to the operating room, pushing their IV stands along. On arrival I was asked to lay down on the table and the procedure (gallbladder removal) was confirmed verbally for all present (two doctors and four nurses, I think). They had me breathe in some oxygen, and the anaesthesiologist started adding something to the IV through a port. I don’t remember what he said about it, but I recall saying “I’m feeling a bit woozy now.” I heard him reply “I bet you do,” and that’s it.

I woke up in a recovery room. I have no clue how they moved me off the table and onto the gurney, and absolutely no memory of the procedure itself. I’m told they inserted a tube down my throat to make my breathing easier (standard procedure) and I have the previously mentioned four new holes in my belly. A new nurse told me everything went well. Once I was conscious enough they moved me to a different recovery room. I assume the first was for people that are still drugged and need active monitoring. The second is where you change back into your clothes, get your discharge instructions, and meet your ride home.

The surgeon stopped by and it turns out my gallbladder was inflamed. Earlier conversation led him to expect that and he confirmed it for me. As a result I have more hope this will resolve the digestive issues I’ve had for the last year. (I don’t think I’ve mentioned those here. Some things just aren’t worth sharing.)

One of you lovely readers suggested I keep the gallstone. Sadly that was not possible. The consent form I signed specifically says that everything they remove from your body becomes the property of the hospital. Weird, but true. I joked with the surgeon about it afterwards, but that’s all I could do. I’d have liked to see a photo, but that didn’t happen either.

I’m not supposed to do any heavy lifting for four weeks (ha!) and I should have a follow up appointment with the surgeon’s office in four to six weeks. Other than that it’s all pretty straightforward as far as I can tell. No one has mentioned dietary changes or anything. Should be back to normal once the incisions heal.

In other news, there isn’t much other news. I’ve got a phone message telling me that all but one of the remaining windows have arrived at our vendor. I’ll get the new delivery estimate for that last window next Tuesday, and I’m hoping it arrives next week. Once I have that info I’ll share it with the contractor. Fingers crossed that everything works out well on that front.

After last week’s post, another of my lovely readers asked me to write something comparing the Canadian and American medical systems. I may do that, but not today. That requires a clearer head than I currently have.

That’s it this time. I need to veg out and heal. Keep safe!



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Jeff Powell

Jeff Powell

Sculptor/Artist. Former programmer. Former volunteer firefighter. Former fencer. Weirdest resume on the planet, I suspect.