ugh. ok. so i had gallbladder surgery last thursday. here's the fundown rundown:
a couple weeks prior to the surgery, i landed in the ER with a gallbladder attack that was worse than any other so far (and i have a couple 10/10 12+ hour attacks under my belt). ER doc prescribed me 10 pills of 5mg hydrocodone in case of another attack while i waited. when i had another attack, the most i could take was two, which hardly scratched it. i had about 6 left going into surgery.
on the day of the surgery, my surgeon talked to my dad (who was the only advocate i had available) while they were waiting for me to wake up. my dad, bless his naive heart, mentioned the hydrocodone without mentioning dosage or the number of pills left. surgeon just said i could take those. did not prescribe anything else.
pain was INDESCRIBABLE once the dilaudid they gave me at the hospital wore off. there was exactly one position i could exist in without wanting to die. one pill did nothing, two pills brought me "tylenol for a headache" tier relief which would wear off in under 3 hours. i was completely out of pain medication by 8am the next day and frantically trying to reach my surgeon, my gp, the hospital, literally anyone to try to explain that there had been a misunderstanding because dad, while being a wonderful man in uncountable ways, was an absolute shit advocate, and i should have been prescribed something. no one called me back.
around 6pm, after about 8 straight hours of crying, i finally got in touch with my surgeon by calling a daisy chain of nurses at the hospital. his advice was to elevate my legs and torso to redistribute the CO2 they pumped me up with for the surgery. i did so and the pain was so intense and the pressure on my diaphragm so great that i literally could not draw air into my lungs. back to the hospital i go. in the observation room an hour after arrival (still having not gotten any pain management) my surgeon proceeded to chastise me for not breathing because my lungs were full of fluid. MOTHERFUCKER I WASN'T BREATHING BECAUSE IT HURT TO BREATHE AND YOU DID NOT GIVE ME ANYTHING TO WORK WITH. fever spiked up to 102 and stayed there. pneumonia!
spent three days in the hospital, sleeping sitting up, and being woken up by nurses every hour to walk around the ward. i got to go home when my fever broke and it was clear i could breathe. pain was reduced but i still couldn't lie down and getting in/out of bed was agony. surgeon shrugged and said most people are on ibuprofen by day 4 anyway. (i took ibuprofen when i got home and didn't bother with a second dose because it didn't do anything.)
THEN THE ACTUAL SIDE EFFECTS OF GALLBLADDER REMOVAL STARTED. i can't really digest anything that isn't broth or noodles at this point. fuck me.
the worst part is because everyone seems to know someone who's had their gallbladder removed at some point and they didn't have any problems, i'm having friends and family treating me like i'm making mountains out of molehills. i can deal with hospital staff thinking i'm a drug seeker, but bitch i do not care that your mom was slamming jello shots three days after her surgery, i am having a ROUGH TIME and i am STAYING HOME. FUUUUCK.