It’s been thirty days since my gallbladder attacked me. I can’t believe how much my life has changed in those thirty days.
I was quietly minding my own business, watching television after putting my kids to bed and preparing to leave on a twenty-four hour road trip to Texas the next morning. Our of nowhere, I was in pain in the center of my torso, just under my rib cage. While at first I thought it might just be a gas bubble from eating to fast, after shifting around on the couch I realized that wasn’t it. Because it wasn’t going away and it was hurting MORE. I got up. Walked around. And nothing would make it go away. After speaking with my sweetheart, I started to get scared because SOMETHING WAS CLEARLY WRONG. This was PAIN. Like transition labor with no drugs and a non-stop contraction that never lets up (for those of you that have felt the pains of childbirth). Was I having a heart attack? What was happening? In the span of about eight minutes I went from being perfectly fine to feeling like I was dying.
Then he asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital.
This is where I, as a woman and a mother, lack the instincts to take care of myself FIRST over my family. I debated. My internal conversation went something like this:
Is this REALLY that bad?
Can I fight through it?
We will have to wake the kids up and it will completely freak them out?
Maybe I’m over-reacting
I don’t want to scare the kids.
It’ll be such a hassle dragging them with us to the emergency room and keeping them up all night.
Dammit, their Dad is on a flight right now and I have no way of getting a hold of him.
Maybe I can just wait it out a little bit and whatever it is will go away [Read more…]