Gallbladder Remorse

I wish I had never had my gallbladder removed.

This isn't even a joke post. This is a full-on, rage-filled, gallbladder-envy post. All you fuckers that still gots your gallbladders? Fuck you. No, seriously. Fuck. You. My gallbladder may have been wonky, but it was mine. And now it's gone. Off in some medical school where med students are poking and prodding it with their tongs and scalpels. I'm so sorry, gallbladder.

It's been nearly two weeks since I've had my baby taken out and I regret it every single day. I was living life fine before I had it removed. Sure, I couldn't eat pizza or burgers or drink a handle of vodka every night, but you know what? I didn't need to! I was coping just fine without that stuff! I was even losing weight and trying different healthier foods. Like arugala. Have you fuckers tried arugala? Shit's delicious.

"Oh, but you'll be able to eat the good stuff again!" say the doctors. The health experts. More like health EXCERPTS, if you ask me (because they didn't explain the whole story).

I still can't eat the good stuff. If I do, during the night, I wake up with this intense pain in my chest that's ten times worse than any gallbladder attack I've ever had. It feels like an extreme case of heartburn, except it's centered right in the middle of chest. I start getting chills and then I start sweating and then I have to hop out of bed and eat a couple of Ritz crackers for the pain to go away.

Honestly, I don't know how Ritz crackers take the pain away, but they work. I don't question it. I just go with it.

And the worst part of it?

The recovery from surgery. The doctors never said that I would be out of commission for six fucking weeks. The day after surgery, Delma and I were going to get bagels because I was feeling ok. You know how long it took me to get to Einstein's? Over half an hour. To go less than three blocks.

"Oh, it'll get better in a week."

You cock-faced LIARS. I walked a mile and a half today. A mile and a half. That should be a thirty-minute walk for most people. For me, it took nearly an hour. Granted, that's better than half an hour for three blocks, but my incisions were hurting and I felt like I was going to throw up and when I got home, I had to take a two hour nap because I was wiped out.

Doctors, you're full of deception and lies. I can only hope your gallbladders stop working so that I can 'em out with a steak knife. Assholes.

The only positive thing about this is that I'm going to have legit scars from the surgery. I've always wanted to have scars and now I can finally have some.

On my fat ass stomach because I can't work out so I'm gaining weight like a pregnant woman.

Thanks, medical science.