I try not to complain, especially in public. Really, I do.But this past few months or a year have me wondering what message the universe is trying to send me.
First, you need to remember that I have Parkinson’s disease, so everything below is on top of that.
I had a breast cancer scare. My yearly mammogram showed…something. So I went through needle and surgical biopsies, and luckily it was not cancer. Phew. But it was frightening.
I had to have a tooth pulled. It had already had a root canal, where one root was punctured by the dental instrument since the root was crooked. So a few years later when it began to bother me again, the best option was to pull it.
Two days later, I had (planned) shoulder surgery on my rotator cuff to “clean it up” and, hopefully, get rid of the pain I’d been experiencing for at least a year.
Didn’t feel well after the surgery. I was tired to the point of lethargy, my stomach was a pit of acid, my skin seemed yellow, and my abdomen felt…somehow, wrong.
Went to the doctor. She said I was severely dehydrated, so I had to drink a nasty salty solution and then keep drinking clear liquids. Also, my stomach “might be trying to give me an ulcer,” so an additional acid-blocker was added to my medications. And, blood work showed my liver enzymes were a bit off, so I was tested for Hepatitis A, B and C. Luckily, they were all negative.
Felt better for a couple of weeks, then began to feel ill again. Same symptoms for the most part, with an added day of vomiting. Oy. The nurse on call felt it was the stomach flu, and told me to see the doctor if I weren’t improving 24 hours later. I waited a couple of days, wasn’t better, so went to the doctor.
He examined me, said “I think it’s your gall bladder, so I’m sending you by ambulance to the ER.” I’m sure my jaw dropped a mile. Before I knew what was going on, I was having my first ambulance ride (too sick to look around and take mental notes for future books) and ended up in the ER. They were very nice, gave me some tests and pain medication.
Pretty soon, along came a surgeon who said my gall bladder was badly infected and he’d take it out the next morning. He probably would have to do the traditional long incision as it was too badly infected for the less invasive surgery. I was stunned; all I could do was say, “Okay.”
They took me to a private room and…that’s where my memory gets unreliable. The pain med they gave me was VERY strong, and made me hallucinate. So while I’m sure my hospital room wasn’t a cabana on the beach, and the man bending over me was my husband, not Dr. House…I don’t know what really went on.
My hubby stayed with me 24/7 for the 6 days I was in the hospital. Bless him. He was definitely my hero. He also stayed with me at home for the first 3 days, until I was ready to go it alone. He deserves a Nobel Prize.
So now as I recover from all of the above, I wonder what’s coming next. Oh please, oh please, make it a long period of good health! I swear, I’ve learned my lesson. (Whatever it was.)