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Under the Knife (Part II)
My wife Jennifer had been having stomach problems for quite some time, and was diagnosed with gall stones in 2002. That was the same year she was pregnant with Perin, so the doctor said it was best to have the gallstones removed about a month after giving birth. We were very lucky to have the head of the maternity department at the Number 1 affiliated Medical College Hospital as our personal friend, and received special attention and lots of TLC from her. She set us up with the best surgeon in the hospital to do the operation. The ultrasound had revealed countless gallstones, so he recommend opening her up to remove the entire gall bladder.
So that was how we spent Christmas Day 2002, Jennifer being sliced open and having an organ removed, and me fretting worriedly in the waiting room. About 50 minutes into the operation, another doctor beckoned me to the operation area one floor up. I immediately imagined something had gone terribly wrong, like they could not find it or performed an operation meant for someone else. I anxiously followed the doctor up the stairs. The surgeon greeted me in the hall with a big smile, and wanted to tell me it was over, and that he had done a great job. He felt it necessary to show me how good he was, and promptly displayed Jennifer’s gallbladder (not having excised it 15 minutes previous). It looked like a skinned rat hanging off the bloody scalpel he had been using on Jennifer. “The gallstones are all inside, let’s see what we have here”. Looking for a place to put it down, he grabbed a sheet of photocopy paper and plopped it on the only flat surface he could find, the heating unit radiator in the hall. Being winter, it was on high, and I swear her gallbladder started cooking a bit as he plunged the scalpel into the organ and sliced it neatly in two. His hands were gloved and covered in blood from the operation, and he used his right index finger to then coax out some of the mischevious gallstones. I was ready to pass out right there but his enthusiasm for his handywork somehow kept me on my feet. “There must be over 60 of those little fellas here!”, he proclaimed”. On wobbly legs and nursing a very weak stomach, I thanked him for all his hard work and personal attention, then managed to stumble over to see Jennifer and her new stitches. At that point, I was in almost as bad shape as she was. We later preserved the gallstones (for what reason, I am still not sure, because we never show them to anyone), after counting 108 stones of various sizes.
last modified Jun 19, 2004 at 20:26
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