I hate you, gall bladder

So remember me bitching about how every time I eat it feels like I have a tennis ball under my ribcage?  Well, it turns out what I’d failed to specify was that the tennis ball always appears on the right side.  You see, last night I was casually mentioning (read: complaining) to someone that other than the discomfort after I eat and the hip pain, so far I’m doing okay, and how I guess that’s what happens when my stomach is pushed up so high thanks to the small one.  In my audience was an ER doc, who said that my stomach is actually on my left side, and that it sounded like something with my gall bladder (he specifically asked me if gall bladder disease runs in my family).  Huh. 

So today I thought, what the hell, I’ll give my doctor a call.  And sure enough, the nurse tells me that it sounds like a gall bladder thing, and that as long as I’m not miserable, to just ride things out.  And I’m not miserable – at best I’d call the pain an annoying discomfort, and nothing near debilitating.  Not that I’m excited about this new turn of events, but at least she didn’t respond by sending me to the hospital.  So now I’m supposed to keep an eye out for signs of nausea or fever, as either new symptom should prompt me to call them back (and might result in the dreaded trip to the hospital).

And what does the world wide web suggest?  Cutting down on fatty foods… and they specifically mentioned ice cream.  ICE CREAM!  Are you shitting me?  I pass my fucking glucose test and the pregnancy gods still manage to take away my vanilla milk shake?  Bastards!

So yeah, I’m no longer on speaking terms with my gall bladder.  That asshole.


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