My overused phrase as I write my first blog in awhile is "dusting it off" and then I don't return for quite awhile after that. This time I sort of have an excuse. And here's the reason for the post.
About a month ago I finally closed on my newly constructed townhome in Greenville, SC, therefore leaving me to move all of my stuff from Tampa...er...Wesley Chapel, FL to the great state of South Carolina. Finally getting out of hotel living and "free" breakfast everyday. I took off a Thursday and Friday and Momma and Pappy Creegs were going to meet me down there along with a few of my neighbors and a big Pod. The move out of the first home that I was a part of purchasing was rather sad. I had many a emotional breakdown and even some tears were shed. Probably because I hadn't dusted in there in awhile, but I digress. It was a rather tough weekend for me personally, emotionally and physically, and that doesn't even take into account lifting the couches, tables, etc.
I made a big deal to my parents and awesome neighbors that Thursday night was my last night in my home and that I didn't want to pack my mattress and box spring until Friday so I could have one last night in my home. So I did, because I'm selfish and like to get my way, which is probably why, at 38, I'm still very, VERY single. Anywho. So Thursday night after a nice steak dinner and big ice cream cone from Dairy Queen, shared with my parental units I embarked on my one last night at a home I love.
After saying my goodbyes for the night with the folks, I went to the empty house and it was eerie. Just real quiet and empty. Emotion got the best of me that night but I was able to fall asleep. At about 2:30am I was awoken by a major pain in my sternum. It felt like I had to poop, and vomit but couldn't do either. And that's frustrating. And I just couldn't get comfortable. This agonizing pain lingered and I couldn't get comfortable in my bed. Felt like someone or something was trying to tell me something. All of the nonsense that I've been through the last few months all coming back on me. Needless to say I was able to finally get back to sleep around 5am, and slept until about 9. This had me worried because there is a lot of family history of gallbladder stones and I had had three similar attacks, most recently in April during my month long training in Savannah. That wasn't nearly as bad, but it still put me down for about a day. So this time I woke up and still had a little uncomfortableness (no, that's not a word, but this is my thing!) throughout the day but figured, like my other experiences, that it would go away. It sort of subsided throughout the day and I went about doing the rest of the packing and the Pod was closed and locked and ready for the move.
Friday night I went out with a few friends, had a couple of beers and ate with a sense of healthiness knowing that my attack the night before was probably diet related. Friday night I slept at my neighbors house and slept great, no issues whatsoever. Oh, and I had the pup too, who was very worried about Daddy the night before. He was keeping an eye on me throughout Friday too, knowing that we had a long drive just a few days away.
Saturday I woke up with some lingering effects of my attack, and a slight pain entered my sternum again. This time it was throughout the day and that is weird. However, I pushed through, relaxed for the most part that day and was able to see some friends, although I missed most of them on this trip, and really started feeling it in the evening. I went back to the neighbors house not feeling so hot and went to bed. Well, attempted to go to bed. I went to the room and tried to get comfortable. Wasn't happening. I laid down at 11, woke up every 30 minutes to pee. Not in the bed, that would have been a record for me. But that was strange, even for me, without having drank 103 beers as per the norm on a Saturday. I didn't sleep a minute Saturday night and the pain was excruciating. Went from my sternum to my ribs and into my back. Gallbladder attack #2 for the weekend that was supposed to be a move and some good times.
I got up out of the bed that I rolled around in all night about 8 and went back to my home just to pack up some things into the Jeep to head back to South Carolina to begin my life...again. I was so tired, but managed to get in the car and head home. It was the shortest 8 1/2 hour trip in my life because I really don't remember it. I could not get comfortable in my seat. The dog was worried for me, and even tried to run away from me during our one stop for him to pee and get gas. He said that he couldn't wait to get to South Carolina to pee on my neighbors lawns. At least in the state that I was in, I think that's what he said. Anyway, I made it back, went upstairs to my bed and was able to sleep for about 3 hours.
Woke up at 8pm and the pain hadn't subsided one bit. In fact it was so bad, that about 10pm I made myself throw-up even though I probably shouldn't have. I'm not sure I have any readers, but even if I did, you probably know that I throw up hard! And the first thing to go is the blood vessels in my eyes. Well, not having eaten anything in the previous 2 days, I vomited my ass off. Just straight bile and dry heaves. Bam! Feel great. Pain was gone...for about three minutes. Then not only was in agony in the sternum, but agony below the ribs. Just an awful feeling.
Ring, Ring! I call the only person I know would feel sorry for me and hopefully give me advice on what to do, my mom! It's about midnight at this point, so I'm waking both parents, who were literally just in Florida the day before and probably had enough time to unpack their clothes before I was calling with yet another issue. They tell me to go to the ER, which I didn't want to do. I have a phobia of ER's. I figure if you don't go to the doctor, then nothing is wrong with you. So, in typical Creegy fashion I toughed it out. Was finally able to fall asleep at 5am. I sent a message to my employees and told them I would not be in Monday but I'd see them Tuesday. I woke up at 2pm still in a lot of pain, but at least I slept. Around 3pm, my mom and dad call and I tell them I've not gotten better and now I have blood vessels burst in and around my eyes, I'm sort of yellow and I'm peeing Clemson orange. They finally convince me to go to an urgent care, which happens to be less than a mile from my house. I oblige. I threw some clothes together, didn't even put a belt on, but did shower, and that's important.
I get to the urgent care, explain to the staff what's wrong with me and they listen well. Great staff at Doctor's Express on Woodruff Rd. Really appreciative of their guidance on the whole situation. Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself somewhat. So they take blood to see what's going on. Now I haven't eaten a thing, have only had three Red Bulls on the ride back from Florida to South Carolina and that was simply to just keep me up. They also took a urine sample and that's where initially they said I had proteins in my urine, whatever that means, but it was why it was so orange. The doctor came in and asked what was going on, family history, what I'd eaten recently, etc. He left to look at the blood test results. When he comes back into the room his eyes are as big as softballs. He looks at me and throws some numbers around about kidney and liver and white blood cells. I don't know, wasn't really in the mood to listen. I figured he'd give me a prescription and a shot in the ass and send me on my way. NOPE! "You have two options. Either drive yourself to the ER immediately or we will call the EMS because I'm really worried and you are not medically stable. We need to get fluids into you, you have a 102.4 fever and that's not right for a strapping, sexy 38 year old." Ok, maybe I made up the last part, but you get it. So I said that I would get myself to the hospital, I needed my phone charger and a belt and some gum, and let the dog out, etc. Once again, I was wrong. The doctor didn't trust me to get myself to the hospital so he had already called EMS, and as he was telling me this I heard sirens. That's a sinking feeling.
At the Emergency room, I figured I'd get a shot in the ass and a prescription and be on my way. I'm really not good at this whole "Guess What Will Happen To Me" game. The ER doctor, after my ultrasound (no I'm not pregnant) told me that she had good news and bad news. I'm thinking the good news is I was getting to go home. That, again, was wrong. The good news as that it was my gallbladder and the bad news was that they were admitting me to the hospital and the surgeon would see me "IN THE MORNING!!!" WHAT?!?! I'm spending the night in a hospital?!?! Oh no! Guess I won't be seeing my employees on Tuesday. The ER doctor also told me that the surgeon would go over my options. Once again, I only had one option.
6:30 am, after being loaded up with IV fluids and hospital jello the night before, but very comfortable and taken care of by the great staff at St. Francis Women's (that's actually what it used to be called because of the amount of babies born there, but it's actually just St. Francis Eastside now). I always try to be a good patient wherever I am or whatever may be happening to me. This time I had a lot of pain meds, so I was comfortable, and could be the positive patient I wanted to be. The surgeon comes in EARLY and introduces himself to me and tells me that on Tuesday (that day) I would be going under for a procedure to see if any of the gall stones had gone into my pancreas and really just do an all around clean up and on Wednesday he was going to take my gallbladder out. He said it was absolutely top ten worst looking gallbladders he's ever seen. So I had that going for me. If I was going, why not go big! But this was really scary. I'd only had Novocaine in my life. Never general anesthesia. Where were my options? I had none.
Oh, and I forgot to mention that I called mom at about 7:30 the night they admitted me and told them that I was going into the hospital. She grabbed dad and got in the car and were on their way 12 hours to South Carolina. That was really comforting and what makes me really lucky to have such awesome, caring, loving parents. They're really the best! 48 hours earlier they were lifting, packing, cleaning, etc. for me. Now they were driving to make sure I was taken care of and ok. It was great to have them there, it really was.
I'll spare the details of the surgery, but they both worked out. I have pictures of my gallbladder and let's just say that a healthy gallbladder is supposed to be the color of a robin's egg. Mine was a nice mix of black, brown and gangrene. I had 16 staples in my stomach and some uncomfortableness (there's that word again) but otherwise no more agonizing pain.
Very thankful to all the doctors (really just had 2 that mattered), all the nurses, and the staff of the hospital. I was released on that Thursday, took another day to recover a little and got back to work the following Monday. Probably shouldn't have, but I'm getting better every day and feel good. Thanks for all the well-wishes that came through.
I'm calling this post Part 1 because there's a second part to the story, or really just what happened a week later back in Tampa, and I just feel like this post was long, so I'm going to make myself come back to tell the other part in the next day or two.
