The Lap Chole

With the weight of the world on my shoulders, I recently found myself thinking, which organ can my body do without? And before you ask, no, I’m not going to start selling my kidneys on eBay or get caught up in some kind of illegal organ farming operation. Now obviously the heart and lungs are keepers and somewhat essential to survival, so they were out (or in, as it were). But making it to the shortlist was the appendix, my nose (thanks Dad) or my gallbladder. 

I’ve been told the pain that comes from having gallstones is worse than child birth. If this is the case, when the time comes for me to procreate I’ll be able to give birth like a champion. I can’t really describe just how painful gallstone attacks are, all I can say is that morphine is your friend. As are surgeons, anaesthetic drugs and nurses with pain relieving medications. And, when you’re in the public ward of the hospital, after having your gallbladder removed, don’t underestimate the power of earplugs. Those two tiny foam buds were my saviour from a room mate who had had an eye operation but should have technically been admitted to the psych ward. 

I don’t remember a lot about the operation, but I do know I got to wear the loveliest of gowns, I had my abdomen painted with betadine (cheaper than a spray tan ladies), and woke up in recovery to a nurse holding up my gallstones in a specimen jar.  As I was in a drug-induced mind fog at the time, I can’t be 100 per cent certain this ever happened, but to me they looked like cookie crumbs floating in balsamic vinegar. And as tempting as it was, I didn’t keep them. 

After a peaceful night on my own, the real fun began the following day at lunch time when Julie, the heavy breathing old bat, arrived, allegedly bringing with her $8000 worth of cochlear implants and 500 padlocks. Jules had a patch on her eye which would have been better placed over her mouth, and kept harassing the nurses to help her lock up her valuable equipment. The only problem was that despite bringing 500 padlocks, Jules forgot to bring a key to be able to unlock them. Rookie mistake. Already breathing like Darth Vader and talking to herself, Jules really hit peak form about 6pm when the hearing aids were taken off, rendering her completely deaf and half blind. Following this, her conversations with the nurses went something like this: 

“EXCUSE ME! NURSE. NURSE, CAN YOU LEAVE THAT LIGHT ON DOWN THERE?”

Nurse: Only if it doesn’t disturb the other patient in the room.

“WHAT?” 

Nurse: I’ll have to make sure it’s okay with the lady in the other bed. 

“CAN YOU ASK THAT LADY IF THAT LIGHT CAN BE LEFT ON?”

Nurse: Yes it’s okay to leave it on.

“WHAT?”

Capitals don’t really do the decibel levels justice, but you get the picture. The next morning, Jules bailed me up after walking the corridors to tell me about how the bathroom flooded during the night and her socks got wet. She wears two pairs at all times otherwise her foot will have to be amputated (not sure of the medical evidence behind that theory but hey, if you‘re fearful of amputation just whack on another pair of socks and you‘ll be right), but they had to be taken off so they could dry out. She wasn’t sure if what had flooded the bathroom was water or urine, and she hoped her socks weren’t soaked in piss. In my opinion, that really would have been the least of her problems. 

CAN SOMEONE AMPUTATE HER TONGUE PLEASE? 

Lesson from all of this? Don’t be admitted to hospital when there’s a full moon.