Gall Stones!

Well, I am in the hospital and have been since Thursday night (it is now Sunday), and the reason is... Gall Stones!  Nasty little things.  I've been in a lot of pain, but I think the worst might be over.  We went for our very exciting 20 week scan on Thursday morning, went out to dinner to celebrate our little munchkin, and was back in the hospital at about 9 pm with the most excruciating pain I've ever been in.  It was crazy.  Luckily I've blocked a bit of it out, but my poor husband remembers every excruciating second.  When the pain started, which was quite sudden and became bad pretty quickly, we called the MAC unit to see what to do.  The lady on the phone predicted gall stones because my pain was in my middle, upper back and nowhere near the baby.  She told us to skip the A&E and go straight to the delivery suite because that is where they would send us anyways.  In hindsight that may not have been the best place to go, but at the time we didn't know what the problem was yet, so they would probably have not dealt with me in the A&E anyways.  Nothing seems to scare medical staff like a pregnant woman, so the maternity unit ends up dealing with a lot of different conditions that may not be related to pregnancy.  Anyways, the first few hours sucked.  It was hard to get the ball rolling, hard to get attention, and very frustrating dealing with what seemed like a slightly incompetant staff.  They didn't pass information on to each other, and I had to explain about 6 times that the medication they gave me first had made me throw up blood.  It was right there in my notebook, but they weren't bothering to read it!  My husband nearly lost it, but then the morphine they gave me started to work and I was in less pain and it didn't matter as much if I couldn't get the attention of anybody.  Spending the night in a delivery suite was pretty amazing.  I heard women giving birth all night, and it really didn't sound like it does in the movies.  I was making way more noise with my screams of pain, which wouldn't let up for several hours, than the laboring women were.  I mostly heard 1-2 screams, and then a baby cry, and then somebody say something along the lines of "my baby!"  It was really amazing.  My husband and I both teared up a few times because we were so touched.
Eventually, and I can't remember why, they moved me to the labor ward, which was a lot less action packed. I liked the new midwife and I wasn't having as much trouble talking people into medication for pain. In fact, they wanted to give it to me at a faster rate than I was asking


continued a week later....
The night nurse in the labor ward was great, she was funny and kind and interested in what was going on.  The Friday day nurse was very nice as well, and was able to answer my questions and put me at ease.  I have learned that nurses, or in this case, midwives, can make a huge difference in your experience of illness.  My mood and fear level for my entire hospital stay was directly linked to the midwife team on call.  I didn't need a ton of attention, but  if they were kind and calm, I felt like everything was going to be fine and that being in a hospital was just a precaution.  If they were either hyper or distant or unresponsive, I felt very nervous, like something odd and out of a TV medical drama was about to happen to me or the baby, and this seemed to make both my pain and my emotional capacity far worse.  
Anyways, I was sent to another ultrasound that afternoon to look for gallstones.  How is that for ironic?  Here I was whining that I wish I had more ultrasounds and I got two in a row.  Of course, this one was more serious, nobody was getting trained, and it was interesting to see how a fully trained professional handles an ultrasound- she was a lot more confident and told me more about what was going on.  I really enjoyed it, and got to see the baby again!  They found that sure enough, I did have gallstones, and that also I had an inflamed gall bladder which meant I had a gall bladder infection.  The doctors had already suspected this and I shrugged it off.  I didn't know that it would keep me in the hospital for several more days, or that it is considered a particularly nasty infection.  I'm so glad I didn't understand this because I would have been a lot more scared than I was. The infection is called Acute Cholecystitis and while I may have had gall stones for a long time, this attack was most likely brought on by my pregnancy and not something else about me.  I was just happy because my pain was finally responding to the pain killers and while I didn't like how high the morphine made me, I can't believe how necessary it was!
Anyways, at about 6ish I was visited by the first of many surgeons.  He asked me about my medical history and what medications I'm on.  It was interesting for me to see how I again underplay certain elements of my health. I told him I have no health problems, and then told him about the two inhalers I use for my asthma.  He was like, ok, start over, you have asthma, are there any other health things going on with you?  It's not like I'm not a drama queen, but I always underplay the things that are actually going on, like a family history of mental illness- which I never know when to bring up and skipped on this trip, or my lung/asthma issues, which seem so small compared to the asthma issues many people go through.  Asthma probably is never going to kill me, and I forget that it's an issue at all.  Anyways, I can't totally remember the details of the meeting, but he basically said what was said for the rest of my hospital experience- that they don't like operating on pregnant women because of the potential dangers of anaesthesia to the fetus, but that that risk is overridden if the operation becomes life saving.  Okey dokey.  Oh, and that they would watch the infection and hopefully take out my gall bladder after I deliver the baby.
The third day, Saturday, the nurses really couldn't be bothered with me.  I couldn't decide if this was a good sign, that I wasn't an acute case, or if they really were being negligent.  Even when I was throwing up my latest meal, which happened daily for a little while, they just came in, removed the throw up bucket, and went back to laughing and talking to each other.  It was kind of strange.  And I had to beg for pain killers, which was pretty humiliating.  I was frustrated because the codeine seemed to be making me throw up, and didn't seem to be working anyways, but they were holding out on the morphine because it is a more controlled drug and they needed two nurses to get it.  I understand that, but the tactic of just stalling did not help me make informed choices, it just made me kind of paranoid.  Later in the day an entire surgical team visited me.  Suddenly the nurses were very attentive, and I became a priority, slightly suspicious if you ask me.  Of course, I was punished for this because as soon as the surgeons heard I was having trouble keeping food and medication down I had an AWFUL permanent needle put in my wrist for fluids.  I had just talked them into taking the other one out, so I was pretty grossed out.  It hurt and was gross, but that's it.  I just got the heebie jeebies from it.  So, this team decided to move me to another hospital, where the gall bladder surgery unit is actually housed, and I was moved a few hours later by a very bouncy ambulance ride, and a very friendly ambulance driver.  I was in enough pain that I couldn't really talk, but she was so cute and they played hip hop music and it all seemed so inappropriate, yet so comforting, that I really liked the trip.
I was put in the maternity ward of the second hospital and met by a vastly superior set of midwives.  Throughout the rest of my stay, this team totally outperformed the other team in all ways.  They were fun, and interesting, and liked to talk about stuff and I learned about their lives and what it's like to be a midwife and they were great.  In fact, I would switch to this hospital to deliver my baby if they had a water birth option, but they don't, so I'm still in limbo land about where and how to give birth.
The days here kind of run into each other.  For almost the entire stay there was talk of me being moved up to the surgical ward because I was actually a surgical patient.  But even when they settled in on deciding what to do, there were still no beds in surgery, and I didn't want to leave anyways.  I called it the princess ward.  It was so nice, there were only pregnant people, not sick people, and I could talk on my phone or play on my computer or walk around (not that I could get very far) or do whatever I wanted.  I had my own room and while the tv was placed in an impossible to view spot, the room had a sink and a drawer and a quintessential English landscape view, and it was great.  I was able to inform my relatives about where I was, and was surprised by the instant response I got from them- they have a tendency to be very distant.  Even the nun aunt who boycotted my wedding because it wasn't in a church, was responsive, which was very nice because while she will never be a mother figure, she is my mom's sister and I really appreciated her support.  In fact, the only one who wasn't very responsive was my best friend.  More on that another time.
The other nice thing that started to happen was I started to be able to hold down my food (a few days later) and I started to respond to the codeine, so I could quit the humiliating morphine.  I was started on a nasty dose of antibiotics, that made me pretty sick, but it definitely felt worth it, I can handle pain if I know everything is okay.  It's when pain and fear intertwine that things get hard for me.
So, that's basically it.  Once I was able to keep down food for a few days I was allowed to start taking the antibiotics by mouth.  I was pretty immobilized for many of the days, and a short walk was pretty painful and took a lot out of me, but I improved daily, and the last day I was able to pick out some food in the cafeteria and eat it with my husband.  I also, after a few days, started to realize that the ward was not as comfortable as I originally thought, with women screaming and vomiting in pain, but this indicated to me that I was doing better because I hadn't even noticed that stuff before.  The best moment, even better than my discharge, was getting that damn wired contraption out of my hand.  It was so gross and I still have a cut on my hand to show for it, although the bruise is mostly gone.  I'll post a picture if I can find one.  It really creeped me out.

MY AWESOME HUSBAND
So, I am now convinced that one of the reasons why I was able to go home when I did was because of my amazing husband.  He slept in a horrible chair the first two nights I was in the hospital (!) and then for the next days he came early in the morning and stayed with me until late at night.  He was amazing at helping me understand what was going on, and at helping me emotionally stay strong.  I always knew he was amazing, but he set a new standard in amazingness, I'm not sure I would do as well as he did, I just appreciate it so much.  After I was discharged I thought things were going to be better/easier, but they actually got a bit worse for a little while.  I had the harsh realization of how sick I was when I absolutely couldn't understand my medical routine and my husband had to be my full time drug dealer.  I was taking 7 pills several times a day and I wouldn't have been able to do it without him.  Well, I don't think that they would have let me go if it wasn't for him.  I truly didn't understand how sick I was.  With the realization of how sick I was, I became very upset and scared.  The one year anniversary of my very close friend's sudden death fell on the Saturday I was in the hospital, and once the realization of how sick I was hit me, the fear and weight of my own mortality smashed into me like a ton of bricks.  I was really spooked, and also really sad all over again about my friend.  She died of a nasty infection that went septic.  That could have happened to me.  It happened in less than a week for her and I miss her so much.  Why did she have to die while I got to improve and go home?  There is no answer, but my husband was amazing at helping me deal with all of this through a pain filled codeine induced haze.  I have never said anything like this, and will probably never say anything like it again, but he is my angel and I credit him with so much- is it cheesy that I believe he saved my life?

THE INCREDIBLE SELF OBSESSION OF ILLNESS
So, I'll probably have more to say once this is all over and I'm not in pain or tired anymore, but I have to say that my illness made me crazy self absorbed.  Facebook was great cuz I could publish updates and get responses from friends and feel a lot of support.  Without that I think I would have called my sister nightly just to get attention.  And I was not short on attention, I just wanted more.  I couldn't ask how other people were doing, I could only update them on myself.  I couldn't even think about anybody outside of myself, except maybe the baby... maybe.  It was a little crazy.  Kind of like having a birthday for a whole week, and judging people's response to it and equating it to how much they cared about me.  The reality is that everybody (except for one person) came through, and while I would have been crucified if I didn't send something to my mother in law when she was hospitalized, yet nothing was sent to me, I got way better.  I really saw my family in action and it was nice.  Of course, my dad went to Asia for a month the day before I was discharged, and I'm a little upset by how he seems to have disappeared into another continent and forgotten about me (indicates the self obsession isn't over because he has emailed twice and called on skype numerous times, but I haven't been on at the time), but that is as much my fault as his- I spent a lot of time telling people I was just fine, when it turned out I wasn't as great as I thought I was.  I hope this self obsession has calmed down a bit, and I now can understand a bit more about what I would do if somebody I loved was in the hospital, so this has been an amazing learning experience for me.

AFTERMATH
I have to be on a low fat diet.  That's it.  Not too bad, not that big of a deal.  In the past month I had been eating more cheese and big ole cadbury chocolate bars, so that stuff had to go, but for the most part, I already ate a low fat diet and this has not been that much of a challenge.  Of course, I was a bit confused about what a low fat diet actually is, but my husband set up an appointment with a colleague of his that is a dietician, and she said we were doing fine.  I think my sister mourned my low fat diet more than I have, she was really upset about my not getting to eat junk food for the rest of my pregnancy because that is what she loved most, but I'm kind of relieved because I was slipping down a junk food slope, and I already struggle with my weight a lot, so being forced to cut back is a good thing.  Trust me, there is no motivation like crazy, shrieking, writhing, scaring everybody around you, pain.