So, my gall bladder decided to make a point during my vacation in New Zealand.
I believe the point it wanted to make was something along the lines of: "you don't deserve a gall bladder."
At least, that's what my doctors have decided the outcome should be.
I currently still have a gall bladder (and also a 2.3cm gall stone in an awkward position), but I suspect this situation will be changed by the end of February.
I've been waiting for a date for surgery from the public hospital, and here at the office we were taking bets as to whether it would be in the middle of O-Week or during the week I'm presenting a paper in a conference in Sydney.
Sure enough, they phoned me today and proudly offered me the day I'm on a plane heading down to a four day conference. They're going to get back to me with another date.
I'm hedging my bets, though, and seeing what the private system can offer me. I'll pick whoever can give me the least obnoxious time to have strangers do strange things to my body while I'm unconscious.
I'm not thrilled about having the operation. I've always felt one's innards should remain "in". Everything in the body does something, I'm sure of it. Plus, all of the other bits in the body are kind of expecting it to be there. I don't feel comfortable saying "oh, it's just a gall bladder - people get those removed all the time!"
Oh, well. It's my own fault for being a fat white chick for most of my life.
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