Thursday, May 16, 2013

The Gall of It All! OR How Not to Rest After a Race

You know I TMI. Your fault if you keep reading.
So, after my 10K triumph (and my not-mimosa-getting non-triumph), we went back to the hotel. Mister took  Miss out to the pool while I showered and rested a bit. I felt off, but nothing really specific. I had just punished my body for an hour and a half, so this is probably all expected.

Walked to lunch. Got a chicken caesar salad. Miss fell asleep at the table (none of us had slept super well). Started to feel bad. I occasionally get bad stomach cramps when I eat beef, which I just thought was changing enzymes in my stomach; felt like that, only the pain never really stopped. Sent Mister and Miss to the pool, hoping to sleep it off. Still too much in pain for dinner. Picked at a Subway sandwich. Downed lots of water and Gatorade. Probably really stupid lack of hydration on my part. Had I been home, I would have asked to be sent to the ER. But the logistics hurt my brain. Tried to sleep it off.

Still not feeling great in the morning. Tried a bland breakfast. Threw up in the bushes outside. Several times. Felt marginally better and was able to eat toast and yogurt. Made a stop at the Texas Capitol Building because we had promised Miss that we would. Couldn't manage the walking around. Slept most of the ride home (as did Miss). Attempted a little soup. Made a doctor's appointment for the morning. Worst. Mother's. Day. Ever.

Monday, still in pain. Saw the doctor. He made the conservative call of food poisoning (although I couldn't figure it). He asked if I wanted to do bloodwork. I said yes. Tried toast. Tried applesauce. Still hurt to eat.

Tuesday, doc calls that the levels for my liver, pancreas, and kidneys are fine. My white blood cell count, however, was very high. I was to come in on Wednesday for more tests, and call him that day if it got worse. It got worse--stabbing pain in my right side. I called him, and he sent me to the ER.

In ER, recommended to have an ultrasound of the gallbladder. First, they gave me some aaaaawwwweeessssooommmmeeee pain killers. (I told Mister that this was his Golden Moment to record me saying something and animate it later.) Good thing, because I got one of those Benign Looking Creatures Who Is Really Evil as a technician. She would ask me to hold my breath, and then be so concentrated on getting that image that she would forget I was holding my breath. Or she would suddenly say, "Stop breathing!" Bottom line: I ain't no ultrasound super model.

Turns out my gallbladder was full of stones and had to come out.

Several hour wait for a room to open up at St. Luke's Episcopal Hospital. Fun ambulance ride (like riding in the way-way back of a station wagon, only with more straps). Shared room, but night by myself. Surgery in the morning.

Post surgery glamour shot
No, not morning, I found out on Wednesday, because my surgeon's docket was already pretty full. Most likely late afternoon. Mister, you stay home, do some chores, come later. No, wait, Mister, I was just told I'm going in 10 minutes; surgery should be 45 minutes, recovery an hour, see you at 3PM.

Surgery took longer, though, Gallbladder was too big to be removed laparoscopically ...lap ... that rabbit-like word using normal procedures. I had to be opened up. Which means longer (and more painful) recovery. And probably better scar.

So, I'm recovering in my hospital room now. I've walked a couple times because I'm spooked about having an air bubble in my shoulder like I did after my C-section (painful muther, that). I'm also allowed to have clear liquids rather than just ice chips (as much as I do love chewing ice). I have not farted yet because you asked ... no, wait, that's the nurse.

So, yeah, no running for a little bit. My next paid-for race is in July (virtual 5K through Katy's Moms Run This Town). And a biggie end of September; I expect I will be recovered fully long before then..

And I do not ... DO NOT ... endorse this method as post-race rest, weight loss methodology, or pursuing time off from work. They've got these automated compression cuffs on my calves, though, that are pretty rocking.

More updates as I know.