Saturday morning and Sunday morning was way excessive, thanks. I get it.
So no longer working, huh? Right.
A second surgical consult is scheduled for Thursday, as officially I no longer have a working painkiller, and when powdering the vicodin and chasing it with double naproxen no longer works, that's probably a sign. It won't be a surprise to anyone that I've charted the length of time it takes for gallbladder pain to fester; in case you're deeply curious, mine has risen by thirty something minutes to five hours give or take fifteen minute, which may fall under not great. It's also become a lot less food specific; nothing I ate had been issue-ish. I'm psychosomantically reacting to food badly.
There are a couple of other discomforts that are also making me nervous. I'm aware this is for the best. I know I have to do this. I know I'm going to do this. I just don't know how. I've suggested my family rohypnol me the night before and that still seems like the most practical approach.
They said the surgery can be scheduled for next week. The one good thing to come out of this is that I've completely lost the rest of my appetite just thinking about it.
Note: if I'm offline this week, it's work; we're expecting a big build, and as soon as it comes in, I will be discovering my work ethic in a huge way. I'll also, to be honest, probably sulking and panicking in turn. I'll judge myself in a month or so.
Comments closed. I'm reserving the right to be completely stupid about this and pretend it's not happening. I don't know how not to be terrified, and I don't know how people do these things when I can't even breathe thinking about it. This is something I feel I should have been taught in school.
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