Its gone, Im rid of it.

Thanks to good living through pharmaceuticals, I missed the allowable window to legally mourn so I hope some of you at least said your goodbyes. Ill share what I remember which is some in great detail and some perhaps induced by really good drugs.

Pre surgery, the surgeon I call “MyGOD-HesMyAgeHecantBeASurgeon” comes by to say hello. All and all, I think this is a good and decent thing to do considering he is going to slice me open shortly and remove a beloved organ. I think at this point its the least he can do. D and I carefully measure him up and decide that he seems ok and while he prods around on my belly he very much seems to know where the general location of my ailing gallbladder is which we think is a good sign.

Why is everyone here so damned happy about the fact that Im sacrificing a major organ for no noble or worthy cause? Even the receptionist who checked us in was happy to see me and smiled so much I wondered if her teeth were those expensive Da Vinci veneers that we see on Extreme Makeover and yes, I pondered the cost of such perfect, even almost chicklet like teeth.

Chippy Little Hobbit Nurse wheels me to the OR wide awake after kissing D and waving at the remaining staff members who gathered like a flock of twittery birds to wave back and wish me well. Chippy Little Hobbit Nurse whispers to me that they do this (send me in wide awake) so I feel EMPOWERED before surgery. I am feeling many things, but empowered is not one of them. Im feeling almost… gallbladder-less.

Learned anesthesiologist- Hippy Dippy Drug Doc (I met him earlier to discuss drugs and “pain levels”) breezes into the OR and says “Howdy Again!! I know this will be a snap for you…” Now I realize this isn’t a heart transplant for GODSAKE but I completely disagree with his use of the term snap. 

 

Snap per Miriam Webster:

Verb

to make sharp, distinct sound as in a crack or whip.

to click as teeth or jaws coming together

to break suddenly esp with a sharp cracking sound.

 

 

 

Im only pointing out that SNAP might not be the utterly appropriate word for this occasion.

He notices that Im not smiling with him so he smiles even bigger and says, “No worries, I’ll give you a little something to RELAX you while we wait for the surgeon.” Is he waiting too? Is this something we share? Should he be out doing other things about now? Is my surgeon MIA?? Here is the point where I wonder to myself exactly what ELSE the surgeon could be doing but operating on me?? Is he making phone calls? Potty break? Is he reading the paper? Does he know that Im lying sprawled and almost bare in an icebox of an OR waiting for him to make an entrance?? Hippy Dippy Drug Doc winks at Chippy Little Hobbit Nurse and she smiles back knowingly.

I love words. Words mean things and Ive made it my passion to really understand their nuances and use them carefully. Relax isn’t a word I would have used once the burning in my vein subsided. Within moments, I realized that ALL is quite right , in fact most certainly, positively- right with the world despite its weaknesses and failings.

My Mom’s favorite poem truly came to mind in large snippets which I attempted to passionately (and I thought, quite generously) share with the OR staff while gesturing wildly, the one free arm that wasn’t taped to a board. I almost sang out: “You are a child of the Universe… no less than the trees and the stars….” 

Oh yes indeedy I am!

I realized that I am no less —- but quite possibly

(and even more remarkably….)

ONE OF the trees or stars!

Chippy Little Hobbit Nurse begins to cover me with warm blankets, smiling at my attempts to passionately and clearly orate the Desiderata. Other odd looking beings in masks come in and whisper secretively amongst themselves while gathering instruments that I consider irrelevant to the point at hand which was our collective understanding and group moment of sharing of The Desiderata. Ill admit that I dont like the looks of them but think that my poem may reach out to them and erraidcate any thing that might not be “of the universe”. So I must carry on!

I continue to try to complete my important recitation through a mouth that feels a little full of sand and I lick my lips to go on.. “Whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should…” I am now convinced that I, while lying here on this table with warm blankets on me am most assuredly, undoubtedly seeing the universe unfolding as it should!

I am a gallbladder-ectomy survivor.

I am gallbladder-less.

I am SANS Gallbladder.

My gallbladder is in absentia.

Now here is something interesting. I just did a google on SANS and see that it says the word means: without or away.

I think I have selected the proper term for my gallbladder. SANS. Gallbladder … away. Gotta love google for a point well made.