Two weeks ago, I went from thinking I had a basic stomach flu to discovering my gallbladder was secretly trying to assassinate me.
Two weeks ago Friday, I thought I was just wrestling with a nasty stomach flu — you know, the classic “coming out of both ends” special. After a couple days of that carnival ride, the fun leveled up: my throat started convulsing nonstop, basically vagus-nerve fireworks masquerading as hiccups. Try not to puke sixty times an hour and tell me how Zen you feel. I muscled through the weekend before finally tapping out and going to the doctor on Monday. The meds they gave me barely touched the issue, and by Wednesday, the clinic took one look at me and said, “Yeah… you’re going to the hospital.”
🔥 From Stomach Bug to Surgical Steel: My Unexpected Hospital Adventure
I landed in Mercy 10 at Covenant*, it was tests, tubes, IVs, scopes, scans — every gadget they could plug into me. They eventually figured out my gallbladder wasn’t working. Their official medical term: “non-functional gallbladder.” My unofficial term: it looked like a busted Rain Bird sprinkler spraying pus and bile in every direction. They removed it and put in a temporary plastic stent to help drain the mess. Oh, and my gal bladderd poisoned my blood on the way out of the door.
I actually started improving and was almost released, but my liver numbers crashed again. Because of that setback, they wheeled me back in and replaced the plastic stent with a steel one that’ll ride shotgun inside me for about six weeks. Not dangerous — just unpleasant, weird, and a little too “cyborg chic” for my taste…