While I was glad to finally get May behind me, who'd have known that June could possibly be worse?
We successfully moved and unpacked with dazzling speed and efficiency, knowing I'd be going in on June 2 to have my gall bladder out. The procedure went smoothly and after a few weeks, I was feeling really good. I was looking forward to going back to work and finalizing details for the wedding on June 20.
Then...KABOOM. Last Thursday morning, I was hit with a wave of nausea and abdominal discomfort.
I was told after my surgery that it appeared that a gall stone had snuck out of my gall bladder and was down in a bile duct, near the opening to my intestines. I was given the option of doing a scope procedure called an ERCP to sweep out the duct or wait and see if I could pass it on my own - which may or may not be painful. The pain I was feeling was most likely that stone, giving me trouble.
After some deliberation, we decided to go back to the hospital and have the ERCP done. Sweeping the tract clean would guarantee me a pain-free, worry-free wedding day and honeymoon. I was told that they'd do it that afternoon, keep me overnight to make sure there was no internal bleeding, and then send me home the next day.
Piece of cake, right? Wrong.
Every one's anatomy is different. My pancreatic ductal system is apparently quite twisty (official medical term), which made the procedure more complicated than expected. When I woke up, I felt groggy, but good and even joked about making sure I was getting my money's worth out of the hospital visit.
My doctor told me that because the procedure had been so complicated, I could expect some discomfort. Feeling fine, I shook his hand and assured him I'd let him know if I began having trouble.
Not even five minutes after he left, everything changed. I got violently ill and my abdomen swelled up like a balloon. They called the doctor back in and he ordered stronger pain meds and anti-nausea drugs.
I have never been in so much pain in my whole life. Giving birth to twins was a walk in the park compared to this.
I don't remember much of the next few days. When I was awake, the pain was excruciating, so they cranked my meds to allow me to sleep as much as possible. My concerned family called, but I could barely hold the phone, let alone form logical sentences.
Mark became my voice. I'd tell him how I felt and what I needed when I could muster the strength, because 9 times out of 10, when someone would ask, I couldn't articulate my thoughts.
It turns out I had developed a bad case of pancreatitis as a result of the ERCP. The only thing we could do was try to manage the pain and wait it out. So, after 6 days in the hospital, including a four-day stretch where I could eat nothing but ice chips, they released me.
I'm still in a lot of pain, but am managing. I can only eat soft, low-fat foods - which doesn't really matter, since after just 3 tablespoons of anything, I feel stuffed.
Oh, and the wedding? We decided to postpone it.
It was a tough decision, but it was the right one. I really don't feel disappointed. I feel relieved - like a student who got an extension for the big term paper. Besides, I want to glide down the aisle, looking and feeling my best - not hobble along, grabbing every other pew to steady myself.
And that little stone that went AWOL and caused this whole thing? Gone. They never found it during the ERCP. Apparently I'd passed it before we got to the hospital.
Little bugger.
Back in biz.
Holy crap. It's hard being offline for over a week -- unable to access weather.com, my favorite blogs or any news websites. Now that I've caught up on what's going on in the world around me, allow me to bring you up to speed on what's been shakin' over here.
Last week Thursday, we successfully closed on the house. After two hours of waiting for funds to transfer and paperwork to fax, we were handed the keys to our new home. Still weary from the preceding days of angst and worry, we promptly drove to the new house to make sure the keys actually worked. They did.
We were officially moved out of the townhouse and into our new place last Saturday. So many people helped us out. From watching the kids, to moving furniture, to helping clean the old place -- we are blessed to have truly amazing friends and family. Thanks a lot Mom and Dad W., Grandma Judy, Grandpa Dave, Grams and Gramps B. and Willie and Joni. You guys are all amazing.
One of the Moving Day highlights came when I handed my landlord the keys and drove out of the cul-de-sac for the last time. It was a surprisingly normal exchange. I think he's finally come to terms with our breakup and is looking forward to a fresh new relationship with his new tenant.
We spent the rest of the weekend and all day Monday unpacking, hanging window treatments and setting up the kids' rooms. The mad scramble was exhausting and not without some bloodshed. We were on a tight timeline to get the house into a livable condition by the time Tuesday rolled around because after that, I'd be out of commission for a while.
I've been having gallbladder attacks for the last few months and after several particularly painful episodes and a trip to the ER, we decided to schedule surgery as soon as we could after the move. So, Tuesday I was admitted to the hospital for the procedure.
First, let me say that when news began to spread that I was having my gallbladder out, people came out of the woodwork, telling me they too, had the same procedure. Seriously, it sounds like more people have had it removed than still have it in.
Also, people volunteered all sorts of scary stories. I heard how some people were back on their feet two days after surgery, others two weeks. I even heard about someone who died from complications. All this news was a little much to take, so I tried my best to just focus on what my doctor told me, say a few prayers and go with the flow.
With a fist full of pain pills, I was finally allowed to come home on Thursday. I'm still really sore and need help to get up off the couch. (Nothing like feeling like a beached whale.) Mark and the kids have been great, helping me out and running the show while I watch from the sidelines.
When I feel better, I'll take and post some pictures of the new house. I promise.
Oh yeah, 14 more days until the wedding. I'd say I'm living pretty full life.
Last week Thursday, we successfully closed on the house. After two hours of waiting for funds to transfer and paperwork to fax, we were handed the keys to our new home. Still weary from the preceding days of angst and worry, we promptly drove to the new house to make sure the keys actually worked. They did.
We were officially moved out of the townhouse and into our new place last Saturday. So many people helped us out. From watching the kids, to moving furniture, to helping clean the old place -- we are blessed to have truly amazing friends and family. Thanks a lot Mom and Dad W., Grandma Judy, Grandpa Dave, Grams and Gramps B. and Willie and Joni. You guys are all amazing.
One of the Moving Day highlights came when I handed my landlord the keys and drove out of the cul-de-sac for the last time. It was a surprisingly normal exchange. I think he's finally come to terms with our breakup and is looking forward to a fresh new relationship with his new tenant.
We spent the rest of the weekend and all day Monday unpacking, hanging window treatments and setting up the kids' rooms. The mad scramble was exhausting and not without some bloodshed. We were on a tight timeline to get the house into a livable condition by the time Tuesday rolled around because after that, I'd be out of commission for a while.
I've been having gallbladder attacks for the last few months and after several particularly painful episodes and a trip to the ER, we decided to schedule surgery as soon as we could after the move. So, Tuesday I was admitted to the hospital for the procedure.
First, let me say that when news began to spread that I was having my gallbladder out, people came out of the woodwork, telling me they too, had the same procedure. Seriously, it sounds like more people have had it removed than still have it in.
Also, people volunteered all sorts of scary stories. I heard how some people were back on their feet two days after surgery, others two weeks. I even heard about someone who died from complications. All this news was a little much to take, so I tried my best to just focus on what my doctor told me, say a few prayers and go with the flow.
With a fist full of pain pills, I was finally allowed to come home on Thursday. I'm still really sore and need help to get up off the couch. (Nothing like feeling like a beached whale.) Mark and the kids have been great, helping me out and running the show while I watch from the sidelines.
When I feel better, I'll take and post some pictures of the new house. I promise.
Oh yeah, 14 more days until the wedding. I'd say I'm living pretty full life.
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