CHOLECYSTECTOMY

In other words, that cholecystectomy word in the title means the surgical removal of the gallbladder.  The gallbladder being a small organ that aids in fat digestion and, also, concentrates bile that is produced by the liver.  We can tolerate having or not having our gallbladder.  This morning,  Ray lost his.  He has no problem with this since he has had about eight gallbladder attacks since January.  He had a mild one late yesterday afternoon, so today's surgery couldn't get here any faster.  We were lucky enough to have the surgery scheduled at Stafford Hospital which is brand new and about fifteen minutes from our house.  There was a five car accident on I-95 North this morning which didn't get in our way at all, thank goodness!

With the short commute, we arrived to the hospital early, as usual, checked in at 5:30 am, got Ray prepped using two nurses (one was being trained on the how to's of this hospital), an OR nurse, an anesthesiologist, a nurse anesthetist and the surgeon.   The double and triple check with Ray occurred with questions being asked such as what he was having done, who he was, why he was there, etc.  At 7:30, they wheeled him away, and at 7:45 the OR Nurse put the call into the front desk nurse to tell me that it was "knife to skin time" in the OR--let the games begin.  I had a light breakfast sitting at a table for two in the sunlight downstairs, headed back upstairs just in time for the "he is in recovery" call, and then the surgeon came out to me and said "it all went great".  Within thirty minutes, we were being given Ray's discharge information (mostly what pain meds to take and when).  Once home, I dumped Ray on the couch (okay, I placed him there), he passed out, and I ran to get the prescriptions filled (the people in his mom's hometown of Tazewell, VA would love bartering with him over that Oxycontin!) and onward quickly to shop for the things people after coming out of general anesthesia need to eat (jello, soups, bread--we have no toaster since I gave that to Carly on Sunday, and Sprite).  Basically, he will be eating all normal things once the anesthesia wears off completely.

Then my daughter came over.  Well, she drove the hour it takes to get here, and we purged through all of her "classroom stuff".  The stuff had been put into boxes and totes and bins earlier this summer.  These are the things she wants to fill her sixth grade classroom with next week.  The two of us took many trips to her car to get it loaded up (Ray can't lift more than ten pounds for the next six weeks, can't swim in the lake for the same amount of time, and he is off work for two weeks), and off she went about five hours later.  For me, it was a great day!

Now while I was sitting in the surgical waiting room for about ten minutes (after my enjoyable peaceful breakfast in the warm sunlight), I was, of course, thinking about Panama and picturing myself in a waiting room there.  I thought about hospitalizations.  And illnesses.  I was thinking about our friends, Clyde and Terry (www.Alongthegringotrail.blogspot.com), and the medical conditions and circumstances they have been through with their retirement in Panama.  She had a hysterectomy performed in Panama City, and he broke his toe on the cruise ship while in Columbia and had to have surgery there.  I had a slight panic attack thinking about the surgeon coming out to me wanting to speak Spanish and realized that the doctors in Panama City are, many times, US-educated (and many speak English!).  Or so I have read and been told this by a number of people who have already retired there.  Then, I straightened myself out, went back to my happy place of sitting in the sun reading my Kindle a few minutes earlier, thinking about how Ray was in great hands here in Stafford and how much better he will feel now that the small organ is gone.  And I also thought (now my big girl pants have been put on) that if Ray and I find out that we need any surgeries or procedures performed when in Panama, we would do our research like we always do, ask people questions, ask doctors questions and proceed from there.  Like with everything (this two plus year plan for retirement comes to mind!).

 I can't predict what will happen tomorrow much less what will happen when we get to Panama, but I do know that I need to take this one day at a time, one big girl step at a time.  For now, Hakuna Matata (no worries).  Time to dispense those pain meds!

Just a tiny little organ.