On Thursday morning I woke up in severe pain with a really sore stomach/chest and a sore back. I had a shower (it helped), took some ibuprofen plus codene (did nothing) and went back to bed with a hottie. Nothing would stop the severe pain and after the third iteration of me leaning against the wall groaning and saying ‘no, no,no’ Tom decided it was time to visit the emergency department.
I really like living in Featherston but when you’re in agonising pain, the drive to Masterton is a very long 30 minutes. Apologies to the people in Greytown who I probably woke up by dry-retching loudly outside their house.
I was hoping for a hair-ball filled with teeth or to be one of those people who doesn’t know they’re pregnant for nine months but no, the reality was much more boring.
Within half an hour of arriving at the hospital I was diagnosed with gallstones, topped up with pure codene and poked and prodded with needles and ultrasounds. The service was great and although it’s not ideal to have something wrong with you it was great to get a quick diagnosis. I also got to spend hours with Tom – I was drugged, he was bored but we had no commitments other than the crossword. Since Thursday I’ve been reading about gallstones (Tom says Samuel Pepys has one the size of his fist – ew) and living my new healthy lifestyle. Amazing how the promise of agonising pain makes it easy to go cold turkey on coffee and easier to get excited about lentils, brown rice and broccoli.
By now I should have some concrete advice from a doctor on what to do but the Featherston Medical Centre was next to useless. I left knowing nothing more than when I went in so I’m in a process of exploration trying to work out what’s good advice and what’s quackery.