In the last episode of the Great Gall Bladder Drama, my wife had her gall bladder removed on the 13th. Everything was fine until the 15th when she experienced terrible chest pains. The doctor ordered us some tests and my wife went in on Friday to get a CT scan.
Here is where everything kicked into high gear. The CT people saw the scan, called the doctor and told us that my wife was being admitted to the hospital but they couldn’t tell us why. That would be the doctor’s job.
The doctor’s nurse came by, told us that my wife had a giant pouch of fluid inside her body. It could be bile, it could be an infection, it could be anything. The doctor would explain it and oh, don’t eat anything because you’ll be having surgery any minute.
We go to the hospital room, get checked in and my wife brings up that she hadn’t eaten since 8:30 that morning and it was 3pm now and she was really hungry. The nurses said wait until the doctor showed up.
He didn’t show up. We paged him. We called his message service. We called his practice. Nothing.
Around 8:30, the surgeon on call showed up, didn’t know where our doctor was but explained that no surgeries were happening tonight and it would be tomorrow morning so my wife was allowed soup broth and nothing else.
Long story short, we fired the doctor who went missing, made the surgeon on call our new doctor.
My wife had a drain put in her side and it turned out that the pouch of liquid was bile. This happens sometimes. When they removed the bladder, all the tubes connecting to the bladder close up and sometimes more bile gets through while they close.
On Sunday they did a scope down her throat and removed a leftover gall stone and checked for no leaks. There were no leaks.
Monday they took the drain out and sent her home. Today she went back to work.
Holy shit, was that traumatic. The doctor who went missing, the starving and two surgeries on a weekend did little for our stress.
Everything is okay now and who knows, we might be getting back to normal soon.