On Monday I had a pre-examination before the operation to remove the gallbladder and I had a bad cold. I had read almost everything I came over about the operation, so I knew that if I had a cold they would postpone the operation. There was no way in hell I could deal with that. I had called the hospital to get my operation prioritized, and I got the operation date on the phone – 30th November. At first I was whopping happy because I finally had a date. Then it hit me – it was 20 nights before the operation. The gallstone attacks always comes at nighttime, so I started counting the nights – not days. That meant I would have 10 attacks before the operation. 10 nights of no sleep and hell. I called my doctor the next day and got a new painkiller prescription.
Normally I would have done everything I could to hide my cold, but I couldn’t hide that I had lost my voice. I sounded like a pubertal boy whenever I didn’t whisper, so it didn’t take long before the nurse asked “Do you have a cold?” Lying wouldn’t have gotten me anywhere, my voice would betray me.
She said that they didn’t operate when the patient had a cold. It was too dangerous. I started crying and said that I had to have that operation. The gallstones were affecting everything. I have slept between 2 – 4 hours a night for three months now and I am toast. I am taking care of a baby and I am exhausted. I am only eating one meal a day, and I was unable to take care of myself. To even manage to get one meal into myself was difficult.
She brought in the anesthesiologist to look at me. She listened to my lungs and said that I had a bad cold and wouldn’t operate as I was now. They were afraid that during anesthesia I would stop breathing, especially if I was coughing. I continued crying stating that I had to have this operation. Then she said that it wasn’t Wednesday yet (the day of the operation) and I could go home and do everything to get better. She wanted to at least give me a little glimmer of hope. I took it.
They wrote down something in their papers about me having a cold. I went out of that appointment and ready to drink a lot of warm water and google everything I could about getting rid of this cold. Tuesday came and I was even worse. My coughing was running rampant, and I got a tip from a former coworker of mine (Thanks Cirstyn!) about Noskapin that is great for dry coughing. I got my boyfrind to buy it and it helped, but my mood was getting really low. There was no chance in hell I would get this operation. I tried calling the hospital to let them know that there was no point in coming in for the operation, but nobody answered the phone.
I continued drinking a lot of warm water, taking noskapin and when the morning of the operation day came I noticed that I was very good. I wasn’t coughing! My nose had no mucus. I was so happy, except that I still had no voice. I still sounded like a pubertal boy when speaking, and preferred to whisper.
I walked to the hospital taking deep breaths in the hopes that it would clear my lungs so much that they would operate me. I didn’t talk so that my voice might hold a little bit. When I came to the hospital my days of small coughing was over, and I would only clear my nose very carefully, I didn’t want any nurses to notice it. A nurse finally asked for me and pointed me to a bed and gave me hospital clothes to wear. I nodded a lot to what she said, and tried to speak as little as possible.
I saw she was holding the paper where it stated I had a cold. I got the clothes on me, and a lot was happening. She was asking me many questions and I tried to answer with my best voice. If I needed to cough I did it while there was nobody around, and as subdued as possible. The minutes passed and I was waiting for the doctor to come and check on my cold, stating that they wouldn’t operate. The nurse put something on my hand and attached dripping liquid into it since I hadn’t been allowed to drink for two hours. They still didn’t ask about my cold. It took 45 minutes of making me ready, and I was just waiting for the ax to drop. When the nurse told me to get up and walk to the operation room I knew I had made it. They never asked about my cold. A doctor didn’t come to check up on it.
I don’t know if it was because I wasn’t coughing while I was there, or that it didn’t really matter that much. I never asked because I didn’t want to ruin it. The operation took one hour. I didn’t have any sense of time of the operation or anything. The only reason I know is because I read my papers before I left. They were just lying next to my bed, and I was curious. Everything went fine and when I got out of it, I got a small plastic box with my gallstones in it. Three of them and they had the size of large peas. They were big! That was my first reaction. No wonder I had a lot of pain when they tried to get out. One of the gallstones has the size of almost 1 cm. That’s a lot! I can’t believe I had those in my body.
She only had one stone, but it was a little bigger than mine. When I say a little bigger, then that is actually a lot considering they try to go out of the body.
After the operation I was so relieved. Finally I might get some sleep again. I don’t have to worry about what I eat anymore. I can drink coffee and cola now.
On the day of the operation I even drank mocca with fatty milk and chocolate, but I got a bit sick quickly. hehe, obviously it was a little early to test the water on the operation day, silly me
But it was fine. I had almost drank up the mocca and the unwellness subsided quickly afterwards and I drank a little water. Problem fixed.
As for pain, I didn’t have much of it. When I came out of the operating room I felt a lot of pain, and they dozed me up pretty good until they didn’t want to give me any more before some time had passed. Even then the pain was worth it, I was so happy. The pain after the operation was a lot less than the gallstone attacks. Afterwards I was happy and drugged, and I was in good shape. I got home, and was still in good shape. I got a lot of painkillers to take with me home. Now on the day after the operation, I don’t need the pain killers. I feel that something has been done on my stomach and I don’t have the same movement as before. I’m tired and want to stay in bed, but I’m fine. Whenever I eat I get stomach pains and have to run to the toilet many times. It takes time for the stomach to stomach the new situation, I guess.
I’m so happy that this is finally over. It’s over. I can’t express how much that matters to me.
I can’t believe I waited so long before I had it done (2 years). I’m not going to be that stupid again.