Logistics at a Crossroads: 29: Surprise Surgery & Sofa Confinement: My Gallbladder Tried to Kill Me

#GallstoneRecovery Day 7 Update 2:

Not cleared for takeoff just yet — my return-to-work green light won’t come until Tuesday, May 27th.

As for the Freddy Krueger-level pain, Dr. Thomas suspects it’s likely trapped air still lingering in my body (rude). But the tenderness in my back had him saying, “Let’s play it safe” — so we’re adding another 5-day round of antibiotics to the mix.

Fun fact (or not-so-fun, depending on your perspective): I made his Top 10 List for Gallstone Size.

4 cm

3 cm

And apparently a few smaller ones just for flair. No wonder I was in so much pain.

Turns out, my gallbladder didn’t want to exit stage left either — which is why surgery took longer. Thanks for the drama, internal organs.

Oh, and the bruising on my arms? When he asked what happened, I just said one word: TRIDENT.

He nodded and said, “Hydration might help.”

...He has jokes.

I asked about side-sleeping (because I miss it dearly), and he hit me with the ever-helpful:

“If it still hurts, don’t.”

Thanks, Doc. Very insightful.

New milestone unlocked: I can go in a pool now — but absolutely no lakes or ocean, and definitely no swimming laps or cannonballs. This is more of a float-and-sip situation than a splash-and-play one. Lounging only, folks.

All kidding aside, Dr. Thomas and his entire team have been phenomenal. For seven long, uncomfortable days, they’ve kept things calm, careful, and compassionate — and I’m grateful.

More updates soon. For now: rest, antibiotics, hydration, and side-eyeing every body of water that isn’t a chlorinated rectangle. 

So... this wasn’t the plan.

What was supposed to be a quick visit from my parents and a road trip to Missouri for my nephew’s graduation turned into a full-blown medical plot twist. I landed in the ER on Wednesday night with sharp upper chest and abdominal pain. For anyone who deals with heartburn or acid reflux — how do you survive? If what I felt was even a fraction of that... no thanks. Zero stars. Would not recommend.

By midnight, Trident Hospital had officially admitted me with a fun little surprise: “Your gallbladder is trying to kill you.” Surgery happened the next morning, May 15. Several stones were removed, along with one very angry gallbladder. The surgeon even gave me two of the stones as souvenirs. Thanks, I guess?

Instead of a road trip, I got a week of the recliner, short walks, and strict orders not to bend over — because when you do, the world spins and your body screams. Apparently, pain does have a level 15. I usually manage discomfort pretty well, but yeah… gallbladder pain is a different beast. Note to future me: follow the doctor’s instructions. They actually know stuff.

Luckily, my parents stayed with me for six days and made sure I stuck to the "feet up and do nothing" script. Not how we imagined the visit going, but I’m thankful for the care — and for the reminder that even grown adults need their parents sometimes. Thanks, Mom and Dad. I’m sorry our plans got hijacked by internal organ drama.

The Recovery Chronicles

Let’s break down what healing from this delightful experience has looked like:

Day 1:
It was #ManChildJr’s birthday. The doctor said rest. I said pizza. With permission (and a strict 2-hour limit), I took him to D'Allesandro's for a calzone and a Dunkin’ run. Then straight home. Not my brightest move, but worth it.

Day 2:
I took my first shower post-op. You’d think I ran a marathon. Couldn’t even wash my hair without sitting on the side of the tub like I was 97. No overhead reaching. Just breathing felt like cardio. Fluffy or not, I do not run marathons — and this felt like one.

Day 3:
Bruises? Everywhere. Who did I fight?! The itching around the incisions started and side-sleeping became a fantasy. Tried to roll over once. Never again. I’m now sleeping upright with five pillows, a bolster, and a wedge under my knees. I no longer recognize my own toes from the swelling.

Day 4:
Showering = exhausting. The most basic tasks zap your energy. Pain level was down to a 5, but the "don’t bend over" rule stayed firm. I tested it once. Regretted it deeply.

Day 5:
Bruising started to fade — hallelujah! But the soreness is no joke. Bending is still outlawed in this house.

Day 6:
My parents packed up and left, giving me strict instructions to behave. I’ll try. Maybe. This whole thing was supposed to end in a celebration with family, not hospital gowns and incisions. I’m bummed we missed the graduation, but I’m glad my body is on the mend. Slowly.

Day 7:
We've hit the “burning nerve endings are waking up” part of recovery — or what I call the Freddy Krueger phase. Every couple of hours, it feels like he’s slicing my side for about two minutes. It's quick, sharp, and deeply unwelcome. The bruising on my arms is looking better, so I don’t completely resemble a crash test dummy anymore.

Still swollen though — and as a side sleeper, I now sleep with 100 pillows, a yoga bolster, and a wedge just to not roll onto my side. If I do, my body immediately screams, “NO. NO NO. HARD PASS.” I genuinely don’t understand how back sleepers live like that. It’s not comfy. You are built different.

Today’s my follow-up appointment. Fingers crossed the surgeon overlooks a little redness around the main incision and clears me for work. Because being stuck at home, feet up, and resting 75% of the day sounds relaxing — until it’s your reality. It’s not a vibe.

#ManChildJr did take me out yesterday for a few hours, and I got to rejoin society (briefly). But when I got home? Straight to cold shower, pajamas, and recliner life. He even tried to limit my activity today because we “already went out yesterday.” Sorry kid — I’m still the boss here. Temporarily grounded, yes. But still the boss.

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Recovery isn’t glamorous—it’s slow, inconvenient, and filled with awkward aches, an excess of pillows, and strange little milestones like sitting up without wincing. This healing phase has been frustrating and uncomfortable, but also full of small wins.

I’m really hoping things turn a corner soon—because I miss sleeping on my side. And honestly, I still don’t understand how back-sleepers do it.

Today is my follow-up appointment. Fingers crossed I’m cleared to return to work. I have to be missed a little, right? Because either I’m going stir-crazy… or I actually miss my job and the people I work with. (If anyone tells S.C. I said that… there will be knuckle sammiches.)

More updates soon. For now: rest, hydration, no bending, and just a little rebellion when the calendar says “birthday.”