One night in March, I was sitting at my desk, working from home and aware of a slight discomfort in my stomach, but who hasn't had a stomach ache now and then right? "No big deal," I tell myself, and figured I'd feel better after lunch, I just needed to eat something surely instead of just having a gut full of coffee and half a bagel. Only after lunch, nothing really got better. In fact, it started getting worse. The pain was gradually getting worse, and though I struggled through most of the shift, by the last stretch I just couldn't do it anymore. I called my boss and said I was feeling sick, and sitting at my desk was getting more and more painful. She let me take the last three hours off and I laid down.
Well, that was my plan. I actually ended up barfing up everything in my stomach, and then kept trying to barf long after it emptied. And the pain in my stomach was now like having a vice grip clenched right under my ribcage. I had no idea what was causing it, but at that point I was in too much pain to just try to live with it. I went to the ER.
So that was the start of my first ever major medical event in my life. And hey, I was 36 at the time, now 37, so I think that's a good long haul to go without my body running into a big issue!
It wasn't the most pleasant stretch of months though. First the ER doctor suspected gallstones, but their scans didn't reveal any. They said "eh, it might have been nothing. If it happens again, let us know." I was on and off sick since then, having flair ups of intense nausea and fatigue but still nothing ever quite escalated to the level I had that night in March. That was until a fateful Sunday night in August, granted.
In August, I had another gallbladder attack, worse than the first one. When I say I was in writhing pain, crying and screaming between constant waves of vomiting painfully, I don't think I can find enough words to describe just how much I thought I was dying. I went back to the ER, and they gave me morphine and Zofran on a drip and neither of them could even scrape my pain and nausea. I didn't stop screaming in pain until they gave me hydromorphone and that was less of a "I feel better now!" than it was a "I am in pain but I can't move" kind of relief. The ER doctor recommended a surgeon to me, and that I should see about getting the gallbladder removed as soon as possible because otherwise this was just going to keep happening and get way worse.
So I did! I spent the next three days in what I like to refer to as a pain hangover, but I did manage to call the surgeon's office and schedule a consultation. Next thing I knew, this guy was ready to get me on his operating table and use a robot to cut the demon organ out of me. I was gonna be cured!
And I am! Mostly. Obviously post-op life has its own challenges, but I won't get into those details. They're gross. I can say I am gradually getting much better than I have been in months, but its an adjustment. Now comes to the point - this surgery costs money. Lots of money. And so do the ER visits and everything else.
Even with insurance, it's hard to scrape up the thousands of dollars I'll need before they start taking on the rest of the cost. I hate asking for money. I think a lot of people do. But even my full time job isn't going to come close to helping me pay this on my own. Anything helps, of course. I know I'm not the first person to show up on crowdsource fundraising because of the looming threat of bankruptcy over a medical debt, and I won't be the last. I just ask for help if you can give it. If you can donate, I'll pray that your cereal never gets soggy, your tires are always full, and your pillow is always cool and dry. Much love! That's it. That's the story.
