Last week we celebrated the second birthday of my first son. He's amazing. Everything I'd want in a special little fella, and a bit more.
In reflecting on him and his time with us, I thought about his birth. It was funny... the night before I'd had horrendous pain in my gut. I'd vomit. I'd crap. I'd sweat. I'd have the chills... Just terrible. I remember standing in the shower, wishing this non-location-specific pain would subside. That I could get comfortable. But it didn't. It just stayed with me, like a bad penny. Finally I passed out, only to be woken by a phone call from my wife. Her amniotic fluid was critically-low, and the doctors would not let her leave. They were going to perform a c-section that day. My boy was on his way!
Fast forward a couple years, and I still find I'm having that pain every so often. One night in late May or early June it hits me. It was a Friday night. We were planning on dinner with the in-laws, and perhaps some games after. Of course, my wife was 9+ months pregnant with our second son, so this was NOT the time for me to get ill.
After a couple hours of agony on the couch/bed, I give up. I go to the emergency ward to get looked at. Long story short, I have gall stones, and the surgeons agree that I should have my gall bladder removed.
This is a problem for old people and fat people, not a young guy like me! I couldn't believe it. Sometimes I still can't, but for the three perforations along the top of the rib line and the large purple scar over my belly button. I have one fewer gall bladders than I came into this world with, bringing the grand total to none.
My obesity is starting to take a real toll on my body.