I miss my gallbladder

I can’t remember holding my dads hand….

I wrote that thought several days ago then hid my devices I wrote on. Too afraid to finish the path it was taking me on. I wanted to write about my stomach, my nervous stomach but my hand wanted to write about something too painful to make my stomach write about.

That’s where my other brain is. Or that’s where all the fearful thoughts drain too. My stomach. I have nothing wrong with it except it talks too loud. In a quiet room I am certain everyone can hear what I’m afraid of by the rolls of noise coming from my gut. I don’t have a leaky gut. Or a real medical reason for any of it. I just lost an organ.

I had scopes up and down. I once had a colonoscopy at an age that I had to convince my insurance I needed a colonoscopy. The only thing that came from it was that my doctor discovered how difficult I am to sedate and the nurse said I chatted about hickory trees while out. My doctor noted in my report “excellent prep.” I felt sort of proud of this. Like a star colonoscopy student. Yet I was furious I had a clean bill of health. I wanted a reason for this noise. They did find I have struggled with hemorrhoids and fissures from years of constipation unreported. I was told to increase fiber. To control what I ate? Which created the opposite problem for me. I felt back to square one.

I went to my primary once again for neck and shoulder pain. When describing my pain he said “oh, classic gall bladder issues.” Just like that, I felt certain to resolve. I did have issues with eggs. I told him. Not digestive issues, I didn’t know what kind I liked. I did have issues with hot dogs. Yes. Hot dogs. They make me nervous with their uncertain ingredient rumors. But I didn’t actually have issues with digesting either one. I was promptly referred for testing.

My gall bladder test showed I had a lazy gall bladder. Sluggish. Full of sluggish gallbladder sludge. It was taking my bile and taking its dear sweet time emptying! I needed a new one? Or just not one? Why would I have something so lazy? Could I change my diet and demand it to hurry? I knew the answer, I have the willpower of an unsupervised child with watching what I eat. this was why I was so constipated? Or why I couldn’t eat as much?

My gallbladder was removed. It was apparently difficult to remove, it was stuck way up in the liver. It didn’t want to be removed. Hiding from us all. I was due for work the next day for interviews so I had no time for a proper recovery. It was just a few small holes in my stomach. And one less organ.

I miss my gallbladder. Every time I eat. I want a new one. The doctor seems to take them out without much hesitation maybe I could get one of those? One that worked faster? Get a used one. Is there a place they take them? Do they study them? Where did mine go? Just the land fill? That’s gross to think of.

Why was mine so lazy? Was it my mind all along not digesting properly. I wasn’t flushing out the fear at a rapid rate. Holding it all in. All stuck up in la-la land. Maybe my brain was what was sluggish? Maybe someone should have looked at my brain? Maybe I should have?

I’m convinced my gall bladder was fine. I’m convinced that every pain I ever had was nothing but my busy mind stuck in its busy-mess. My skin hurt. My bladder hurt. My hair hurt when I laid down. I couldn’t be touched. My eyes felt like they hurt. My heart hurt and felt I couldn’t breath. I’ve been scanned and looked at thoroughly. Nothing hurt. And everything hurt.

I notice now my stomach. I listen to it myself. It has a lot to say. For starters it also misses the gall bladder. Now, my bile has nowhere to go. Except straight into the intestine. Moving things way too fast. I don’t even really know how to watch what I eat to avoid the creation of bile. Finally, this thing recognizes I’m typing bile and not bike. It took 3 times to type it to get it to quit thinking I meant bike. Now it is confused because I keep typing bike and I have to switch it from bile….who types bile it’s thinking? Just people who miss their gall bladders I say back?

Sometimes I tell my stomach to just miss it. Just let it out and say the things I need to. Not out loud. That’s crazy. But softly to myself if I can I think. “Shhh, it’s ok. I miss it too. Now we won’t really ever know if eggs and hot dogs were a problem. Now we will never know. “ I think if it was still in there I could have helped it move along. I am finally able to move this all along. I was to blame for its removal. I could have motivated it. I am certain. I just needed to find out how.

My fears are draining not the bile. Maybe that’s what bile really is? Fear. mine was stuck before. It was not stuck in my gall bladder, it never made it to it. I didn’t swallow it all the way. It sat for days in my stomach rolling around waiting to get out. Now it does. I demand fears to come and go. Have them then get to the next. “Afraid of that.” Next. “Afraid of this” next. Next next. Keep moving. Line needs to keep moving to get them through. Checking them off one by one. They don’t stop. I don’t get to the end until it is certain death. Which, isn’t always a fear. It’s a certainty. It’s the thought that makes me step back like being stung. It’s the one that says. “You can’t beat it so don’t be afraid of it, live your life until you die.” That’s why the other thoughts have to move so fast. To get to the one that motivates me. I can’t be stuck in scary viruses right now. It’s just not that scary to me. I had the thought and now I’m passed it. I digested it faster than eggs!

I’m more regular than I ever have been. After a baby once I couldn’t go for 6 days. It was the most horrible thing I remember this morning. If I have a quarter glass of white wine it is like a laxative now. Hot dogs, eggs and anything from our Thai house. Same. I have a day of the week I’m more afraid than others and have to be certain I al never far from a restroom. I miss my gall bladder when I first tried Thai food. I think it would have been an important organ for this moment of self discovery. I’m not huge on opening my sinus cavities with the food I eat and it’s also a terrible first date. Snot and tears and tummies running….

Do cats have gall bladder issues? Or even the organ at all? I woke in the middle of the night to my cat making that noise that should be an alarm clock noise. I just knew she was also on my new sofa. I went back to sleep. I was in the middle of a bizarre dream I felt I wanted to try and fall back into. Which I did. Which I think is weird. I woke and shouldn’t have been able to just pick up back where I left off. Or is that good sleep? Maybe I didn’t wake? I know the cat threw up because it was on my sofa.

I haven’t been able to write a single thing since that sentence way up there. Just in case. I wrote it just in case I needed to finish it I think. Then I paused and focused on the life I had in front of me. I am out of routine so the days I can’t follow my routine I make a new one. I sleep in a little. I allow some flexibility on the order I demand of my bed. I make big meals. Sit and play games. Walk for miles with the kids in the rain. Take a nap. Talk on the phone. Avoid the news. I can’t wake and follow my routine then just shut it off when I can’t follow my routine. I changed it.

My tummy is loud today. I miss my dad. He isn’t even gone. Just sick. He has a new liver. Not even new anymore. Just one that he got from someone else and it grew into his new one. He was born with a disease not found until he was grown up. He lacked a protein that was needed to protect his lungs. His liver was supposed to make this protein. So he was given a little piece of liver from a lady who said she had always wanted to donate a piece of an organ. She doesn’t have issues with missing her organs like I do. She is braver?

He does not have this new virus. They checked. It took 2 and a half days. I was told I would have to quarantine myself and kids for two weeks. What about all the people I had been around that I didn’t want to be around but they were just around. What about the Walgreens lady when I needed Tylenol? The people in my apartment who do laundry and touch railings that I do? Who will get me milk and supplies? Do they even k ow the answers to these questions? Should I even ask them?

I was given a warning about the census. A notice telling me I had to do it “by law?”What law? Are there people counting laws? I don’t even remember getting any other notices to count us? It probably looked like a scam or junk mail. I don’t get a lot of mail. My daughter also tends to through mail away. Shouldn’t they maybe wait to do this people count? Until this ends. Or maybe that’s the rush to do it? To get an accurate loss later? I just think there are bigger issues than seeing how many people live in the world? Too many are dying. Will they come here? How will they get in? It’s a secure building. Will the police let them in? What if I’m quarantined? Will they know? Then the people counters will be quarantined and we will never know how many people live in the world? I know the census is important but I didn’t know it was by law important.

I’ve always been this way. I miss him if I don’t know where he is. I’m really kind of like that with everyone. And everything. Like sluggish gall bladders.