2:20am Gall bladder-less

I'm tired as hell, but my odd functioning bladder is waking me every hour to drop 300-500 mL of fluid. What that means? I haven't a clue. I know the pain is bad. I am alone. My last shot of morphine was around midnight. This one, and the one before, was in the hip. They (the nurses) tell me these are stronger and last longer with less peaks and valleys, so far they've been correct. Although, I don't think any shot will actually be strong enough.

Well, tonight's nurse is great. She just snuck me in some pudding and jello! This is my 2nd "meal" since surgery. The first one was, in my doped up words, the best grape twin pops in the world, awesome orange jello, cranberry juice, tea (blah), chicken broth (green goo - I didn't even bother to try it), and I think that is it. Anyways, I am very grateful for the orange jello right now; the pudding is a bit thick and sweet, ick.

2:00pm - Minutes from the knife

Another shot of morphine, much needed relief.

9:55am - life stuck in a bed in a room

Another shot of morphine, a round of phone calls, visitors................

6:10am - Giving in...kinda

Reality of the surgery may not be setting in, but the reality for the need for help did not freak me out this time. I was in enough pain to realize that medical treatment was inevitable. Now going back to the ER, ahead of my doctor's scheduled tests took a little convincing. (I mean, I only had another 30 hrs to wait before the dr's tests were scheduled.) I have to credit my co-workers, although still very new to my life (most of them). Each and everyone is very concerned and caring...and kicked my butt to the ER:

• Marc's big brother concerned hug and talk
• Hans' smart remark of "I know something is wrong because Sheila has been walking around with the biggest smile ever all morning...and I'm sure it is not because she is happy"
• Kelly, Ryan, Steve, and Danny - all trying to convince me not to eat, but to go to the ER...they would even drive me.
• Jay mouthing from his office, "Are you OK?" as I struggled my way to the bathroom. Later, he came over to my desk and listened to my illogical ramblings and followed it up with get my ass to the hospital. Hmmm, guess my logic on why I shouldn't wasn't so convincing.
  
• Amber in disbelief that I was surviving, after the removal of her own gall bladder with complications a few weeks ago. God bless her soul
  
• Emily making fun of my "cute little baby steps"
• Shaun announcing that I'm a masochist to continue to saying things to make myself laugh and put myself in even more pain that I'm already in. I think he's proud of my pain baring ways

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, Shot 3 of morphine was injected while I was writing this and has finally kicked in. I must say even being injected through the IV, the shot hurts like a bitch. BURNS BURNS BURNS. FIRE IN MY ARM. My current nurse was nice and diluted it more to lessen the burn. STILL BURNED, DAMNIT.

FAT TUESDAY...And I'm still on mandatory fast. I am renaming today, anorexic Tuesday. As long as the buck stops here, I'm looking forward to post-operative hospital food. Mmmmmm. Yummmy.

Ok. Nappy time, again.

3:00am - Asleep like a dead dog

The fact that I will be put to sleep like an animal tomorrow and sliced open like Sunday dinner hasn't hit me, yet. Reality hasn't set in...and I am not sure I want it to.

My dreams are aware...what little I have slept has been filled with extremely vivid dreams. At one point last night, I had a being crawling out of me, tearing through my skin, chest, boobs, rib cage, with its sharp finger nails, stretching and tearing through my skin in unimaginable, horrific ways. It scares me my head creates these ideas. The whole dream was extremely disturbing with killing, incest, just a bizarre existence and behaviour.

2:35am - Hospital quiet...brain loud

The hospital is finally quiet minus the clicking of this machine measuring my IV fluid. I gave in and let the nurse give me a 2nd dose of Morphine awhile ago.

I'm not sure why I fought having the pain meds this hospital visit; i think part is the guilt of my stupid gall bladder allowing me to "imagine" an excuse to have a drink friday, two more days and I would have officially been sober for 6 months. As if I am not in enough pain, I decide to torture myself with more by not taking the pain killers offered to me, often or at all, to remind myself I am stronger than that. I do not need "pain killers" or excuses. I don't need the alcohol. Six months! I wasn't working for the timeline. I wasn't working towards a timeline. I quit drinking for me, to make me feel better and feel more alive. No more excuses and no more adding to the depression. I could have done without the friday night "liquid pain killer". My friends (co-workers) questioned me, tried to stop me, but, also, knew the severe pain I was in. It was my choice, and everyone made me think two, three, four times about it before I made my choice and took that first drink. I chose to make my mistake. I wanted to have an excuse to drink and the pain finally gave me one. The good news: it didn't kill the pain as I had hoped, nor even give me a good buzz. It disappointed me, but I am, also, glad...not getting the satisfaction I wanted will make having a drink less tempting in the future. I hope.

Another reason I avoided the pain meds is I know I can handle the pain. I have been through worse every day of the last 8 plus years due to the car wreck.