|Hestia and her gallstone|
A couple of real beauties by the sounds of things.
Now I get to meet a surgeon and discuss the ins and outs - mainly outs - of gall bladder removal.
I had been hoping to hang on to the offending organ and just get the stones zapped, but they're not always good candidates for zapping.
I told The Boss: 'The zapping turns them into gravel and you just pee them out.'
His eyes widened and he reminded me of the size of the chuckies in the gravel that we endure instead of salt when there is ice on the ground in this part of the world. 'Gravel,' he reminded me, 'could be a stone about 1 cm in diameter. Gravel, is not the same as sand.'
Peeing out something the size of a grain of sand is one thing, but don't really fancy peeing out something the size of a baby's head, so was quite relieved when the doc said that my stones weren't good candidates for the zapping.
I then had to phone my mum, Juno, to let her know. Her relief was palpable. She quizzed me on what the doc said, what I said....and in the silences between words, the unspoken conversation between us was of my dad dying from pancreatic cancer. The doctors had thought it was a stone, then it was diagnosed as a tumour. Goodnight Vienna.
So, I've been a TINY bit scared that the results might not be straightforward. I've been a bit carnaptious recently, so that's why the last couple of blog posts were written on Saturday and scheduled to post during this week.
But *claps hands together and cheers up* it's all perfectly alright - I've just got a couple of large stones. Huzzah!
I decided to celebrate last night with a splendid beef olive (don't they look like unfortunate willies?) with mashed potatoes, a glass of rose wine and....a CHOCOLATE biscuit. Heavenly.
The Boss pondered whether I could get my gallstones made into clackers ( a popular pastime in the 1970s). I rather think I might get them set into the hilt of a skean dhu...... waste not want not, right?
|The best thing to do with gall stones, or an errant husband's nadgers|