Simply Carolina Dreamz » Creative Domestication » A Mixture of Emotional Breakdown Feelings – the Gall Bladder hell

A Mixture of Emotional Breakdown Feelings – the Gall Bladder hell

I’ve held off writing this post because frankly, I’m not sure where to begin and I don’t want to give you an encyclopedia version.  This is my attempt to give you a dictionary version.

Six years ago, I was very sick.  I was passing out in public.  I would wake up on floors, at 4am, in fabric departments, with suits around me, asking me if I was diabetic.  I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere alone, after that, because someone had to have a knee under my butt when I started to fall to the ground.  Which happened way more often than it should have.

At the time, I had the best doctor in the world.  Dr. P H Gordon Thompson at Palmetto Primary Care. It took me a very long time to decide if I would out names in this post.  I think the names are the only way I may find some care.  So here I am.

Dr. Thompson had been through my gastric bypass with me, as my primary care physician.  He sat knee to knee with me. We had a grand report. He was real.  From Louisiana.  Familiar with my last name.  Just a great bedside manner and fantastic physician.

In the midst of all of this passing out in public, I was having tremendous migraines and Dr. Thompson referred me to a neurologist quack in Mt Pleasant whose name will be withheld for the protection of the guilty.  He was convinced my medicine was the problem and since I wouldn’t quit them all cold turkey, that failed as treatment.

There I was in Dr. Thompson’s darkened room, in pain.. with something seriously wrong.  Talking to his new nurse, when out of the blue, he quit as my physician.  He said “I don’t think I’m helping you anymore and this is not working out.”  He offered me one more month of my end of life pain medication patch and I told him to keep them and I went home.

For a year, I could not find another doctor to even treat a bladder infection in an urgent care because I guess antibiotics are a hot black market item.  I don’t know.  I just know that my pain patch labeled me and I went home determined to get off of it.  I went to bed for 30 days and weened myself off.  What else was there to do. I didn’t have a doctor who would see me or treat me.

For three years I did not have a primary care physician. I simply stopped trying to find one.

It was about this time that I had repeated ambulance trips to the emergency room.  I was being released, being told that I had a high tolerance for pain and to come back if I had a fever.  Well, guess who can be deathly ill and not fever.  Right.  Me.

When my temperature reached 104, by 3am, we went back, reluctantly and the surgeon I was supposed to follow up with admitted me, unseen.  He ran some tests because I was still passing the gallbladder ultrasound.  Eventually he ran some different test that needed bile, to prove I had none and the next morning, in an emergency, he removed my gall bladder, which was four times too big.

I had to stay in the hospital a week on antibiotic iv’s.  My migraines stopped immediately.  It was an amazing miracle.  I had failed the traditional test for the problem.  The one even Dr. Thompson had ordered. 

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