Gall Bladder Surgery

I had heard that it wasn't uncommon for the surgeon to take your gall bladder out when he did your bypass, and it's been over the past couple of months that I have seriously wished that my surgeon (ha) had taken out mine.

I'd been having some problems for a long time, like my spontaneous barfing syndrome, where I suddenly puke violently for no reason and then go on, but it progressed into some pretty serious stomach pain about five or six weeks ago. The short story is that my family doc sent me for an ultrasound, and guess what!?! Gall stones - lots of them. I met my surgeon and had it taken out in a lap surgery last Tuesday. In by six and out by eleven. Yep, day surgery.

I was pretty sore - and definitely cranky that doc hadn't given me anything but 7.5mg Lortabs. Take one every four hours, the directions said, and I did that, but they reallly didn't cut it. We called the doctor's office and complained, and his nurse said that I could go ahead and take one and half every four hours, and that helped a little, but not nearly enough. We called again Wednesday morning and he insisted that I come in before he would give me anything stronger.

We got there and he kindly explained to me that the surgery I had was just a routine little procedure and not a big deal, or it wouldn't even be a day surgery. He did give in a give me a script for something else, telling my husband with a grin that if the 2mg dilaudid didn't tale care of it, then he should just take me out back and shoot me as there was nothing else that he would or could do.

By Saturday morning, I was pretty cheerful as nothing actually hurt but my incisions, and I was actually thinking that I was about over it. Maybe I'd even go back to work on Wednesday, if my sub didn't mind me cutting her time short. By Saturday afternoon, I thought that I was going to die, and I was off to the emergency room with A GALL BLADDER ATTACK?

It was horrible - my stomach was screaming worse than it had so far and I kept puking. I spent three hours sitting in the local emergency room lobby, waiting for someone to see me, before I gave up and left. We went to the next town over and spent maybe an hour waiting to see the doc. He did some x-rays and some blood work, gave me some demerol, then explained to me that I had a stone left in my bile ducts, and that was causing all of the problems. I was going to have to go back to my surgeon and he could either arrange to have me scoped or he might even have to go back in and remove it like he did my gall bladder. Since Monday was a holiday, he said that my surgeon (whom he called) said to call him first thing Tuesday morning and see when to come in.

I did that, and Tuesday afternoon I sat on a table in my doctor's office, listening as he removed my staples and told me that I had confused the pain of my incisions with gall-bladder like pain. He said that he hadn't seen the lab results or XRays from the hospital, but he didn't need to see 'em and wouldn't look at them if he had them. I wasn't yellow, and if I had a stone left, I'd be jaundiced. I just expected to get well too soon; after all, I had experienced a major surgery and I couldn't expect to feel better and be able to do everything like normal so soon. I'd been stabbed four times, he said. What I did expect except to have a lot of pain?

Husband and I just looked at each other as this was exactly the opposite of what he had said the week before when I was complaining about hurting. Then it was all about how it was a minor procedure, blah blah.

We left from the surgeon's office and stopped by my faily doctor's office and asked if he could call us. When he did later, I explained about hving to go to the ER, how bad it hurt, what the ER doc said had happened, and how the surgeon said he didn't need to even see the lab work to know that nothing was wrong with me. Doc J. asked if I had wanted him to make the determination between them, then, and I said yes. That's when Doc J. said that he sided with my surgeon, and that if he said I was fine then I was fine. Does this mean that I don't even need to have the X-rays or lab work sent for you to look at? That's right, Doc J says. Don't even need to see them.

Um, wow. Okay. I was imagining things, and the ER doc was, too.

What in the hell do I do now?