hope i don’t have skin cancer

UPDATE: I got a voicemail from my doctor today with good news. i seem to in fact be skin-cancer free. guess my body doesn’t hate me afterall. 🙂

how’s that for a headline?

apparently my body hates me and such (is it mad that i stopped eating meat? or just upset at my constant taco bell runs?) because aside from the whole super painful gallstones, i also had a random thing on my arm.

no. it wasn’t like a mole or anything really gross. just a thing. a pale, skin colored thing.

and i had it taken off today to be tested. which was kind of weird. they numbed a 2-inch by 2-inch area of my arm and then scraped that sucker right off with a razor blade. the worst part may have been the numbing shot, but after the heck of a surgery i went through last week, the burning sensation i got it from it was the equivalent of brushing my teeth.

i didn’t watch or anything, seeing as how i like to avoid throwing up and all. but i did look at it after they finished. when i got to work. in the privacy of a bathroom stall. you know, just to be safe.

and i was TOLD i could change the bandages in a hour because it would stop bleeding, but that was crap. because TWO hours later, i tried to put on a regular band-aid brand bandage and the thing bled right through it. at this point i thought ‘hmm, i shall find the office first aid kit and commence with using it.”

apparently though, the extent of my office first aid kit is a poster on choking (h/t lovely co-worker) so instead, i grabbed the large cotton bandage from the garbage and put it back on my arm with masking tape.

planning to go with my life, i sat back down at my desk and told my co-worker what i had done.

“WHAT? FROM THE GARBAGE?!!! IT WILL GET INFECTED!! TAKE THAT OFF!”

i argued that it was a better plan than walking in negative 10 degree weather to the local 7/11 to get a real bandaid, but she would have none of it. so i took the stupid garbage band-aid off and applied pressure with a napkin.

and then i remembered that i had some heavy duty band-aids in my bag as a result of my roommate buying me four boxes of them after my surgery (thanks again for that roomie!).

hallelujah!

i slapped one of those “tough-strips” on and got back to checking emails. about 5 hours later it seems to have held up, so i think things worked out fine.

i’m told i’ll hear back about the whole ‘is it or is it not skin cancer” question sometime within the next few days. in the meantime, if ya’ll could pray that it is “not skin cancer” that’d be great, seeing as how i only have 1.5 sick days to last me the rest of 2009.

thanks in advance. 🙂

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don’t worry. not dead.

so ya, i had surgery. and holy freaking crap did it SUCK!

have you ever HAD surgery? (dental work doesn’t count. sorry). oh. what’s that? you haven’t? well, let me take you through why it sucks then:

i got to the hospital around 6 a.m. and went to registration with my mom, grandma, sister and best friend in tow. the lady with the paper work was all “are they ALL with you?” and i was all “yes. umm. i’ve never had surgery before.” and then she was all “please sign here, where it says that if we see your soul during the operation, we are in fact allowed to keep it in a jar and then sell it on ebay” and i was all “umm. ok” and then she was all “initial here, where it says if your limbs accidentally fall off, we don’t have to replace them.” and i was like “all righty.” and then she made me sign next to a line that says i would pay them 10 percent of my paycheck for the next 35 years in gratitude for their services.

after that, i took three left turns and one right turn and followed the “SURGERY THIS WAY ->” signs to another room. this was had couches, coloring books and tvs, there i left my family to the daytime TV gods and followed a women to the actual patient area. she weighed me while i was wearing my shoes, which kinda pissed me off, because everyone KNOWS shoes add like 9 pounds. and then she made me get naked and pee in a cup — you know, so they could be 180 percent SURE i wasn’t pregnant. When they came back to stick a needle in my hand for the IV, i figured, i wasn’t in fact “with child.”

oh. ya. that’s right. they stuck a freaking needle in my hand. that part sucked, and i have the golf-ball shaped bruise to prove it. then when the nurse walked away, i heard some other women get asked if she had ever had any problems with getting put to sleep, to which she said ‘yes, one time i woke up’ and my body promptly flew out of the bed, through two floors and hit the roof.

“wait. what?! she WOKE UP? that’s CRAP!? i’m leaving.” i tried to shout. but the nurse was like ‘no, no, she was under a different anesthesia than what we’re giving you. you will be fine.

then the really sucky stuff started. they started putting me to sleep and wheeled me back to the operating room. the anesthesiologist was like “here’s your medicine”  .5 seconds later i was asleep. about 5 seconds after that (ish) the actual surgery part was over.

and HOLY F*CK did I wake up in pain. i’m using the word F*CK there because it is the ONLY word in all of mankind that could describe what i felt when i woke up.

apparently the gas they used to raise my lungs while the plucked out my gall bladder was hitting my shoulder nerve. picture someone hitting your shoulder with a 50-pound bat over. and over. and over. got it? now picture someone doing that from the inside of your body, because that, my friends, is what it felt like.

on top of that my stomach had been stabbed. four times.

every time i took a breath it felt like i was lifting a house with santa on top. do you people know HOW MANY times a minute us humans need to breathe? no? well, i’ll tell you then. a MILLION* and every. single. one. of. them. sucked.

a LOT!

i also was wearing a full-blown oxygen mask, so i could barely tell the nurse that my life was ending due to extreme pain. see, i had been under the misinformed impression that at this point in my day i would still have some pretty amazing drugs in my system and pain would be the very least of my problems.

once i realize that was a load of crap, i started crying. then i stopped, because holy heck did crying hurt.

so instead i mumbled that i wanted my mom.

over. and over. and over. and over. and over.

until the nurse finally gave in. and took me to the regular recovery area and got my mom. who took my hand. things started to look up. but, then i tried to sit up. and i almost threw up.

the thing about surgery is that you don’t eat for like a week before hand, so throwing up extra sucks because your stomach is empty. also, the stab wounds from the surgeon don’t help the whole experience. i laid back down to avoid the oncoming vomit.

then like two hours later, i tried to get up again because PEOPLE, i had to PEE.

i should have asked for the bed pan.

instead, because im an idiot, i tried to walk to the bathroom. i got no further than the edge of my bed when i filled three, yes THREE, throw-up bins with vomit. oh. i’m sorry. does that gross you out? oh. because i don’t really give a crap. it grossed me out too AND it hurt like the end of the world.

i cried and threw up and got dizzy and was naked except for a super flimsy hospital gown and my hair looked like a blue-jay’s nest and i could not stop throwing up. and i finally told it like it was and mumbled:

“I’m. not. happy. right. now”

nobody seemed to be able to do anything to help though. eventually, my body took pity on me and let me go to the bathroom.

but that kinda sucked too. you have to kinda bend down to sit on a toilet, and my multiple stab wounds (or incisions, whatever) made sitting down the second-to-last thing i wanted to, right after, throw up again. i tried to “bend at the knee. BEND AT THE KNEE.” like the nurse told me, but that didn’t help much. i eventually maneuvered my way onto the seat and went number one.

after i got escorted back to my bed, the nurse was all “YAY, you went to the bathroom. NOW all you have to do is drink something and you can go home.”

um. lady. i don’t know if you noticed, i but i just threw up for like 10 minutes. there is not way in heck im drinking anything again. ever.

i was originally set to leave the hospital around 11 or 11:30 a.m. however, because my body hates me, i instead decided to stay until about 4:30 p.m. it took two different nausea medications to get me stable enough to go home. on the ride in my best friend’s car, i realized that woodstock does indeed have about 6 potholes per square inch, while the car i was in hit every single one of them, my stomach got more and more p*ssed at me.

when i finally made it in the door, i had no idea i wouldn’t leave the house again for almost a week. my stupid self actually still thought i’d be back at work in four days.

alas, today, Wednesday was my first venture back to the outside world. about 25 vicodin pills later, im still not all the way better yet. and i only made it a half day at the office before i started crying from the pain of sitting up and had to go and do the rest of my work from home. but i have hope. there is a light at the end of this mess, because today. people. today. for the first time in a long time. i was able to wear a bra. ok. ok. not a REAL bra. just a sports bra. but i like where that trend is headed.

* note: the million breaths per second thing is not based on any real facts. crystal made that up.

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wait? they have to stick WHAT into WHERE?

Go watch this:

3D Medical Animation: Gallbladder Removal Surgery due to Gallstones

(I tried to put in in the post, but couldn’t figure out how. tips on that are welcome).

So ya. I’m kinda tired of everyone being all “ohhhhh, gallbladder surgery? that’s EASY.” easy compared to WHAT? people? easy compared to brain surgery? well duh. EVERYTHING Is freaking easier than that. or do you mean easy compared to running a mile? oh. no? not THAT easy. well then why the frick are you even USING the word “easy”

For those of you who don’t know, after going to the er three freaking times during gallstone attacks over the last few months, i am finally getting my gallbladder taken out Thursday. I have never had surgery before, so i have spent the last week freaking myself out by watching episodes of house, scrubs and grey’s anatomy which feature people dying during routine surgeries, such as gallbaldder removal.

because my dad loves me and wants to calm my nerves, he sent me the above linked video, which only served to tell me new terrifying things about my upcoming surgery.

my understanding of the situation (based on information from mr. google, dr. judy and ms. you tube) is as follows:

a. my iv will have to be inserted in my hand. YES. HAND! which is mainly bones, so I’m not too sure how the heck THAT is going to go down.

b. they will have to make four (yes FOUR) cuts into my stomach that go down through to my gallbladder. and then they will have to give me internal stitches. what the heck do those even FEEL like?

c. if i so much as swallow water while brushing my teeth the morning of the surgery, i will throw up.

d. they have to put air under my lung to lift it up. that’s just freaking weird.

e. speaking of lungs, they also have to stick a tube down my throat. eck.

f. they only put me in a “light sleep,” which is how i am able to leave the same day. and just in case that doesn’t hold, they also “shut off my brain”, but you know, just in case BOTH of those don’t work, I’m also given a medication that shuts off my memory in case i wake up during the surgery. I’m told there is about a 0 percent chance that will happen, but I don’t understand why if there is a 0 percent chance that will happen they have to give me the memory-blocking serum in the first place? the whole thing seems kinda fishy to me.

g. they suck my gallbladder out by putting it in a sack. ick.

h. the surgeons will take pictures of the procedure, which i can look at later. if i look thin and stuff, maybe i will try to post them here. because hey, that’s what blogs are for. right?

anywho, wish me luck! i’m going to try to do a few “future” timed posts so that my blog won’t be bare for the weekend and such. that means, if you see a post on commentary sucking on the 30rock season one dvd, i did not in fact write it from the hospital. rather, i wrote it from the past.

UPDATE: Got swamped at work today, no time to write any future posts. will try to post Friday though, and plan to twitter all day tomorrow. Pray for me and my gallbladder!

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