Welcome to middle age. At the end of January (Chinese New Year), our friends invited us to the Four Seasons for a fancy lunch buffet. It was a great experience until I got home and my tummy started feeling really uncomfortable. I thought maybe I got food poisoning from the charcuterie board or poached eggs? The abdominal pain got increasingly worse, and that afternoon, I found myself writhing around on the bed for the rest of the day.

Jesus, how much did I fucking consume? I chalked it up to a combo of overindulging and possible food poisoning. A week later, my tummy was still feeling mild discomfort– then again, I was eating fried eggrolls and veggie pizza, you know, practicing my usual eat whatever-the-fuck-I-want strategy. At my open house on Sunday afternoon, the pain was excruciating. I had to sit down; I was feeling tons of pressure on my upper abdomen, like right under my chest. It was a fullness sensation in a place I had never experienced before and the cramping was through the roof and starting to cause back pain. After the open house, I could barely pick up my signs and drive my damn self home, as I was curled over. Another night in discomfort and then I was fine again.

The following week, I went to see the doctor– she wasn’t my usual physician, just the next available. She listened to my food list from the past week and determined that I had GERD. WTF is that? Gastro esophageal reflux yada, yada, brought on by a high-acid diet. Huh? She sent me off with pepcid and a random list of foods that needed to come off my plate: tomatoes, pasta sauce, citrus, tea, wine, chocolate… what the hell? Oh and ALSO, the list said that I shouldn’t wear tight-waisted pants. Who is writing up this shit? I am the queen of stuffing the sausage! That’s my daily m.o. for getting dressed! Plus, what a weird diet. It’s like the anti-purine diet where it’s just a random mash of tasty foods!?!?

As soon as I got home, John expressed his doubts (he’s such an Eshleman with their distrust of the medical community). It’s not heartburn, he insisted, bc that shit burns near your throat. I dunno what to tell you, bro. I explained to the doctor that I didn’t feel a burning sensation. I told her the pain was level 8/10, located above my belly button and below my sternum. She said GERD is very common. Ok, fine.

So I started taking the pepcid before meals. I only slightly modified (not really) my intake of trigger foods. Everything seemed fine again. A few weeks later, it’s John’s bday. We go out for breakfast and I get eggs benedict. I ate it all (clean plate club), and it was just a regular portion. Afterwards, that full/bloated feeling returned. We went for a walk and continued about our day. I made dinner plans at an Italian place and by then, my appetite was totally gone, so I picked around at the Caesar salad. By the time we got to the comedy show, I was feeling super uncomfortable. I took a couple of Gas X and as the show progressed, things got worse and worse. Finally, I went to the bathroom. I was in there forever, feeling nauseous, fevery, and dizzy. I passed a BM and then proceeded to puke in the sink. Ugh. Then, I had to clean out the sink, bc nothing was going through the drain. Finally, I make it out of the bathroom and then we leave. The rest of the night, something just doesn’t feel right. I call the nurse advice line and book an appointment with my primary care for the next day.

The next day, at my appointment, she suspects either dyspepsia, pancreatitis, or gallstones. She kinda says let’s do blood work and an ultrasound to rule out stones. The next day, I go in for the ultrasound and while on the bed, the specialist asks if I’m sure I fasted beforehand and didn’t have anything to eat or drink. Shit woman, I’m a rule follower. I had nothing. Why do you ask? Then she backtracks and says she’s just asking. Uh huh.

A few seconds later, she says my gall bladder looks constricted like it does after you eat. Oh hell no, that’s not good. Afterwards, I’m starving from having fasted for like 10 hrs, so I treat myself to my favorite veggie sandwich at Specialty’s. It was delicious: cheese, sprouts, mustard, ranch, lettuce, tomato, avocado on herb bread. As soon as I swallow that last savory morsel, the doctor calls. Gallstones. Recommended action? Appointment with the surgeon to discuss removal of the gallbladder. Hold up, WHAT???? I’ve never had surgery in my life. How many stones and how big? Don’t know.

At that moment, I found myself immediately reacting like an Eshleman. For sure, there’s been some mistake. The ultrasound person didn’t even give a quantity or size. I just ate a monster sandwich and I’m fine. Surely, this is just a fluke. Yup, I went into full blown denial.

Two days later, I do a video appointment with the surgeon. I ask about quantity and size, and he says people always ask that and the truth is, it doesn’t matter. Once you have the gallstone attacks, you pretty much should get the organ removed. But since I insist on proof, he pulls up the scan and points to MULTIPLE stones. Fuck.

Mind you, I realize that there is probably no easier procedure than this: it’s laparoscopic, takes 1-2 hrs, and it’s same day surgery. In and out. Still, I’m like worried about the FOUR incisions, tools/instruments getting left inside my body, infection afterwards… Here’s the thing. Don’t be fooled by me being “skinny.” I’ve had a LOT of problems, including H1N1, walking pneumonia, shingles, plus the vasovagal fainting spells… if something’s gonna go wrong, I’m kinda the poster child.

So what does the doc say? Well, you can try limiting your diet to low-fat, but just know that with gallstone attacks, good fats and bad fats are all bad. So like avocados? They are considered good fats, but in the case of gallstones, bad. Sensing my reluctance, he explained that gallstones are a common issue. The typical patient is what they call the 4Fs: female, forty, fat, and fertile. Oh my.

Then he acknowledges the non-PC nature of the 4Fs and tries to reassure me: if he had a lineup of patients who needed the surgery, he would pick me bc I’m lowest risk. And since I’m not overweight, he expects that he’ll have good visibility of the organs and ducts once he’s inside. Hmm, flattery is a helpful tactic.

I told him I’d think about it and let him know. John kept harassing me about my denial and reluctance. Who’s behaving like an Eshleman now? Step aside, dude. The next day, I scheduled the procedure for April 6. I’m still not keen on the four incisions. I mean, it’s not like I have a six pack or bikini bod of any kind… in fact, I have a muffin top for sure. Still, I don’t like the idea of tools poking around my belly.

As it turns out, since my appointment, this coronavirus situation has REALLY hit the fan so that may buy me some more time before the surgery. As it is, I have reduced my volume at mealtime and avoided eggs… so far so good. I mean, for sure: every meal is still a gamble, but so far, I’m feeling ok. Yeah, I might still be looking for my out at this point. Shrug. Turns out I’m a closet recalcitrant patient after all!