So I had nearly convinced myself that my gallstones were a fluke.. And then that shit came back to bite me in the ass. Hard.

As you know, the day after my video call with the surgeon in mid-March, I went ahead and scheduled my surgery for gallbladder removal. Like a cocky beotch though, I booked the procedure more as a placeholder, not genuinely expecting that I would actually need to go through with it when the time came. Well, COVID-19 came on like heat rushing around the corner, and pretty soon, it became clear that the surgery was not going to happen— it was considered non-critical and elective.

All of that was fine by me, bc I wasn’t having any more symptoms… April 6, my original surgery date, came and went and all the while, I was resuming my bold eating habits: cheeseburgers, tri tip, ribs, sushi rolls, Chinese food, etc. A few times in early April, I noticed gurgling in my belly and one night that fullness/bloated feeling came back, but it didn’t escalate to anything more serious. A swig of Mylanta, and I was good. At worst, the discomfort lasted 4-5 hours; then, I was as good as new again. Then, Saturday, April 18 happened.

We ordered Chinese food for dinner. I mean, I’ve been eating Chinese food my whole life— and to be honest, I have never really classified it as greasy food. Mistake No. 1. So yeah, after I scarfed everything down, my belly started feeling super full. In the middle of the night, I awoke at 4 AM with ridiculous bloating and gurgling. And then for the following 8 hours, I could NOT get comfortable to save my life. A billion trips to the bathroom. Chills, tingles, body aches, weird tastes in my mouth… I was writhing around on the floor by the front door, by the bathroom. Then the vomiting started. The symptoms came in waves but man, the nausea, the seeing stars… it was bad. And being that we were in the heart of COVID, I just kept trying to power through. By noon on Sunday, I took another swig of Mylanta only to vomit again. I could barely keep water down. I had not eaten anything since Saturday 7pm. After hour number 7, I realized that something about this time seemed different. So, we called the Advice Nurse, and she told us to head to the ER.

Poor Bubbey. How many times has he been my ER getaway driver?? And of course en route, I puked in the car. Thankfully, I had the foresight to pack a barf bag along with my overnight clothes. So he pulls up to the ER circle and I go in. Turns out, he’s not allowed to go inside. Pretty quickly, the IV, blood draws, and testing begins.

During my ultrasound, the tech keeps trying to show me stuff on that blurry-ass image— he appeared so entertained/fascinated explaining that a stone had made an “escape.” Ok dude, glad you’re finding some fun in all this.

After I got transported back to the exam room, two doctors came to talk with me about removing my gallbladder. Next thing I know, the nurse interrupts them midstream saying the surgeon insists on speaking with me right away. Wow, really? She couldn’t wait an extra 30 seconds?

So I take the urgent call and immediately, the doctor apologizes for interrupting: She explains that a stone made its way out of the gallbladder and lodged itself in my bile duct, right at the area where the duct connects with my intestines and pancreatic duct. She tells me she has to call in her team from home to take care of this ASAP. Then, she advises: you should play the lottery, bc you’re in the 3% of people who have the stone lodged in that precarious place. I’m already feeling tons better after being hooked up to the fluids, so I ask if maybe the stone will dislodge itself. Nope. We gotta go in and get it. Now.

So 90 minutes later, another doctor goes over all the risks and things that could go wrong with the ERCP, and then I’m asked to sign my life away. Here we go! They wheel me into the operating room with 5-6 other people and monster machines roaring and humming. I drink an elixir, I turn onto my belly, they strap me to the table, and I get a plastic grill put over my face. That’s the last I remember.

I awake a few hours later in the recovery room, and I feel totally fine. No sore throat, no weird sensations. And holy shit, I got so much good rest that night. I’m telling you: the IV, the nurses checking in hourly… Kaiser was seriously the best. Every time I spoke with John on the phone, I kept calling it my hotel room instead of the hospital room.

The next day, I awoke to a nurse giving me a very soothing, warm sponge bath. I’m telling you, it was almost like being at the spa. I guess prior to surgery, my body had to be wiped down with some special chemicals. After she was done, she put a paper blanket on top and hooked that baby up to a blower pumping hot air at 89 degrees. I was in heaven. By noon or so, I was carted off to the operating room. Another monster room with lots of big equipment and five staff. Strapped down, face up this time. The doctor let me pick my music (Cranberries), I said a few more words, and then bam, knocked out again. Back in the room, I woke up a few hours later with a very sore tummy. Then, I was discharged. Indeed, it was quite the whirlwind!