Last week, my only problem was breathing. That was before I ever thought about the fact that I had a gall bladder, or that it might be full of stones. So Saturday morning I was out in the back yard of the cabin, happily digging in the dirt, when a pain hit my stomach. I thought it was maybe the ice cream I had eaten for breakfast, or the chocolate sauce, or the brownie. So I took some antacid and the pain went away. But in a couple of hours it was back, worse than before. I wondered if maybe I had appendicitis, and Dad drove me to the ER at the IHC hospital in Heber. (Many of you know that place thoroughly!) By then the pain had pretty much gone away again, but they tested a few things, and said I probably had gastritis. Then Dad and I drove down to American Fork, so I could stop in at the baby shower that Bev Lloyd was giving for Donna and Buttercup. (Great food! Too bad I ate it!) Later that afternoon, the pain was back again, and it came in waves all night long. So I swallowed my pride and had Dad drive me to the ER at the Death Star, on State Street. By then I couldn’t even stand up. I crouched on the floor while they asked me silly questions. They said it sounded like gall stones, so they did an ultrasound, and sure enough . . . there they were! I didn’t ask how many. We had to wait most of the day for an operating room to be free, but I didn’t care, because they gave me morphine whenever I asked for it. I think it was two or three in the afternoon when they finally took me in. When I woke up later on, I could tell that my friends the gallstones were gone, and I didn’t miss them at all. (Dad said they were so big, the doctor could feel them through my skin.) ‘Nuff gruesome details. I’m getting better now, and I don’t know how my breathing is going. When you’re in pain, you breathe pretty shallow anyway. Maybe I’ll find out that the gallstones were keeping me from breathing, although nobody’s ever heard of that before.
All along, we didn’t know if we could still go to Dad’s reunion in Virginia, but since we already paid for everything, and since I couldn’t feel any worse at the Hilton in Arlington than I feel here, we’re going! In fact, we’re getting picked up in an hour. We have a nonstop on Southwest to Baltimore. Dad’s reunion committee made arrangements for all of us to get good prices on rooms at the Hilton, where the reunion is being held. (Good prices don’t mean the rates for Motel 6 in Laramie.) You’d think that a five star hotel would give you a free continental breakfast, wouldn’t you? And free internet? Ha ha. The breakfast is $17.95 per person. So we made a trip to the Walmart grocery, and we’re prepared for the best possible breakfasts.
Enough of my rambling. You’d never guess I’m high on percocet. Please keep praying for me. I love you all.