Sunday, August 7, 2011

Is Thirty-One the new Sixty-One?

Gallbladder:  your days are numbered.  Thank you for the past thirty-one years of bile storage; your service was much appreciated.

Pardon the long absence from posting.  I had a "gallbladder attack" last Saturday night.  I had never before really considered this smallish organ that sits just under my liver.   I certainly had never given much thought to gallbladder attacks before last Saturday.  I've quickly become acquainted with this little bile-storing organ, however, and I now know why they call it a gallbladder attack.  The pain was so sudden and so intense, I though I might have been having a heart attack.  I know that sounds melodramatic, but...whoa, Nellie.

I'll meet with the surgeon for a consult on August 16th, and hopefully my surgery will be soon to follow.  They are currently backed up to October, but perhaps I can get it sooner since I'm nursing a baby and hardly able to eat anything myself!  I'll skip the rest of my complaints about pain and nausea and share the glimmers of miracles this week.  On Saturday evening, a few hours before my attack, I noticed that I was uncomfortably full of milk even after feeding T, which hasn't happened before.  I pulled out my breast pump and filled a whole bottle, and stuck it in the fridge.  As they were loading me into the ambulance a few hours later, I was able to tell my bewildered husband where the bottles were.  Even though our older son always refused the bottle, T. happily slurped it up while I was at the hospital.  And kudos to my husband for figuring out how to sterilize the bottle and warm up the milk on the fly!

The other glint of God's goodness this week, kind of like a divine wink, came after a myriad of confusion surrounding my ultrasound requisition after an error was made at the hospital.  I couldn't get the error sorted out over the phone because the ER sends your records to another planet as soon as you are discharged, so I spent five hours in the ER on my birthday (which is also my now three-year-old's birthday) getting the mistake sorted out.  It turned out to be a good thing because the first doctor didn't take blood or urine samples, and it turned out that I also had a UTI.  Too much information?  I know, but really, is thirty-one supposed to feel like sixty-one?!  In the end, I had my ultrasound done the next day even though I was told it would be a two-month wait.  The ultrasound technician who performed my gallbladder ultrasound was the same technician who performed the first ultrasound on baby T., when I thought that I had miscarried him.  I didn't think he would remember us after doing hundreds of ultrasounds since last year, but he remembered before I even said anything and was so excited to see T.  It was such a good reminder of the difficulties that God has brought us through, and the two miracle babies he has given us.

Today was our last Sunday at our church.  Leaving a church is hard, which is probably a good sign.  It would be even sadder if I wasn't sad about leaving after five years.  I'm so thankful for the time we've had here, and the people who have shared the journey with us.  Two girls from our youth group and one young adult girl became members today, and it was such a sweet way to spend our last Sunday there.  Baptism Sundays are my favourite; I love hearing people's stories and hearing about God's goodness in their lives.

Everyone has a story worth sharing.

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