I thought I would have a lot to say three weeks after my gall bladder removal. As it turns out, I don’t. I went to the doctor for my follow up appointment yesterday (he has been on vacation since my surgery) and the conversation went like this:
Doc: How are you feeling?
Me: Now, fine. The first couple of days were a little hairy, but I am almost back to normal now. Except for the pain in my belly button.
Doc: Oh, that will go away at some point. Let’s see how it looks…
(Peers approvingly at the scars.)
Doc: Looks good. You have no restrictions on eating or exercise.
Me: So that means I have to start exercising?
Doc: Yeah, I think so.
Me: OK. At some point. But I am done now, right? I don’t need to come back?
And that was it. One half hour surgery, one night of vomiting, loads of ice cream (which may have something to do with being told to exercise), one follow up visit, four tiny scars, and I am done with the gall bladder forever. Adios. It was fun while it lasted. Now, I shall hope that I do not need to go under anesthesia again anytime soon, and indulge in some Jeni’s goat cheese and red cherry ice cream. What? You haven’t had Jeni’s ice cream? More on that next week. For now, suffice it to say that it does not suck.