Three Year Runniversary

In about a month it will be three years since I first laced up my Asics and stood in a parking lot with several hundred other women wondering what in blue blazes I was getting myself into taking part in our local running club’s Women’s Running Training Program. I was convinced of two things: 1) I was out of my mind; and 2) I was going to die. Clearly I was wrong on one of those two counts.

The Training Program is ramping up again, and for the third year I’m volunteering as a Coach with the Beginning Runners group. Earlier today a young friend I’ve known for a long, long time tagged me in a post on Facebook showing her registration confirmation for the program. And truth be told, I got puddled up. I am so proud of her for stepping out of her fear and putting herself ‘out there’ doing this in a group and in public.
She’s pretty convinced she’s out of her mind.
And she’s afraid she’s going to pass out, fail, or worst of all quit.
I’ve promised her she won’t pass out or fail and she’s given me permission to nag her so she doesn’t quit. Thus proving that she’s out of her mind. Never give me permission to nag! I’m good at it. I have references.
Me? I’m proud of her! Couldn’t be more full of maternal pride if she were my own child doing this.

Every year I’ve been a volunteer coach it has served a couple of purposes.
First, if my own running has faltered or I’ve begun to ‘fall out of love’ with it knowing this is coming up kicks me back into the groove.
Second, it puts me back into what my RYL (Running/Yoga/Life) Mentor calls “Beginner’s Mind”. I get that little excited/nervous flutter in my stomach. I get excited about running and all things running all over again. I start inventorying the answers to beginner questions in my mind, and in that process I ask them of myself.
How are my shoes?
How’s my running bra?
Am I eating to sufficiently fuel the maching?
Am I adequately hydrating for those hot, steamy, Memphis afternoon runs?
Have I lost my mind?

In encouraging my young friend I linked her to the beginning of this blog so she could see where I was early on in this and while I was there I scanned through some of the posts there and stopped when I came across this statement, made about three weeks shy of my own Graduation 5K: I have never, ever in my life stuck with any sort of exercise plan/program this consistently for this long! And it stopped me in my tracks. Because I am still sticking with it!
Oh there have been occasional lapses, but I’ve never quit or stopped. I’ve always come back to it, always begun again all over again.

And much of the credit for that goes to the very thing that got me started in the first place. A few weeks ago I was deliberating with RYL Mentor whether or not I was going to continue coaching with the Beginners, move to coaching with the Intermediates, or register as a participant for the Advanced training to up my own game. My personal jury was still out on the decision a bit. Until the email went out asking coaches to sign up and I decided to give it one more year and I found myself clicking the link and signing up. And today, when my young Rockstar friend tagged me in that post I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be. My heart is with the Beginning Runners, and there’s a tiny bit of selfishness in that.

The butterflies are marching and I’m excited for both of us.
On Monday, July 7th when we start that first Run With Coaches it will be a beginnig for her and an amazing continuation of a beginnig for me.
Three years.
Who saw that coming?!

The Incredible, Amazing, Self-Repairing Want To

After months of worrying about it, sporadic efforts, and vacillating between “I’m going to fix this!” and “Screw it, I’ll just quit!” and finally deciding to let things Just Be until they started Just Be-ing something else, something clicked and I’m back to loving running.

Seriously.
*poof*
Just like that.
It started with a Memorial Day Race that we do not just because it’s a race put on by our favorite running store, but because it honors those men and women from our area who have made the ultimate sacrifice in service to our country.  I knew the running of the race part was going to be ugly because I hadn’t really been running, and even with an 8am start time it was going to be warm and m-u-g-g-y.  It’s late May in Memphis and “Muggy” is this city’s middle name!  But it wasn’t quite as ugly as I’d expected and – once I could breathe like a normal human being – I didn’t feel all that bad.
Of course having the store staff cheering us on by name, and the Patriot Guard Riders who came out to honor the latest name added to the existing 1,575 names on the memorial wall cheering us on telling us how awesome we were it was hard to feel bad about being out there in any way.

HCRP ended up at the Ortho Doc looking into some knee pain he’s been experiencing recently.  No damage or injury, but it’s possible he’s beginning to develop a bit of arthritis in his knee.  Not a game stopper, just requires some care and adaptation.  Anyway, we blew off running Wednesday.
Correction.
I blew off running Wednesday.  He had a note from his doctor.
Thursday came and I packed my gym bag, took it to work, and spent the day alternately adoring and glaring at it.  Around 3:30 I decided “I’m just not feeling this today, I don’t see it happening.”  Then I thought about some of the races coming up on our calendar – some of our favorites in this area – and decided “No, I’m going to run!”
And so it went for the next 90 minutes.
Back and forth.
“Running!”
“Nope. Not running.”
Forth and back.
HCRP got there and was visibly limping so it was clear that running wasn’t in his best interests, which was the precise moment I decided “I’m running!”

We run together.  Always have since I started the Women’s Running Program three years ago and told him “You’re doing these runs with me during the week!”  Unfortunately because we run together and “always have” when one of us is ill, injured, or ‘just not feeling it’ it is far too easy for the other to “sit this one out” with them.
Awww…
Such devotion!
Such love!
Such a load of crap!
And so I laced up my Asics and hit the Greenline for a couple (and a half, there was ‘and a half’) miles that felt really, really good!  AND felt good at a pace that was a full 30 seconds  per mile faster than my old reliable 12:00 minute per mile standby pace.
By myself!
I’m so accustomed to having HCRP just off my left shoulder that I think part of my brain had come to believe I ‘couldn’t’ run alone. I’m not sure why, and honestly I’m not inclined to give it too much mental space or energy.  The thought/belief was there, and now it’s not.  I actually enjoyed the solitude.

Yesterday morning we (HCRP’s knee is improving!  Yay!) headed out for another run.  He kept it short (2 miles) and I resisted the urge to increase mileage too quickly and only went out for 3.  And again, my pace was quicker than it’s been in the past and everything felt good.
I’m doing some things differently – basing my intervals on distance and not time and increasing the distance of the run intervals – which will bring the goals I had for this year to reality.

But more important than pace or time or distance is that I’m already looking forward to Monday’s run!

My Give A Dang* is fine, it’s my Want To that’s busted

First and foremost, let’s dispense with the titular earworms:
Give A Dang*
Want To
I really only like one of those songs.
And you, in the corner, stop snickering at ‘titular’. It’s a grown-up word. Look it up!

I want to run.
That’s a lie.
I want to want to run.

I pack gym bags.  Several days a week.
I actually manage to run about once a week, which I end up enjoying once I get past the griping thighs and burning lungs. I’m even (somehow) running a full 30 seconds per mile less than my standard pace.
And after every one of those runs I turn to HCRP and say “This is the last time we skip runs!” Which is generally followed closely by “And we have got to cross-train!”
I’ve even resorted to platitudes like “No excuses!” and “Were gonna ‘Just Do It’!”
I have not (yet) resorted to “No pain, no gain”.

We’re volunteering for races with our running club.
Cheering on other runners, admiring finish times I will never aspire to.
Talking running out the wazoo.
Speaking of my wazoo, it has somehow managed not to grow exponentially in direct opposition to the number of miles I’m not logging.  Not sure how that’s not happening.
(If you understood those last couple sentences, you might want to get your head examined.)

My running friends are running.  And then some!
My Tri-ing friends are tri-ing as Tri-Season is upon us.
And I envy them all the joy they get from the miles.

Me?
I’m just not feelin’ it.
I want to feel it.
I’ve even tried that whole ‘fake it til you make it’ thing through not one, but two half-marathons I was woefully under-trained for.
But I’m just not there.
The list of Races We Must Do This Year isn’t enough to get me excited.  Regardless how close (next week!) the first of them may be.  I suddenly find myself completely capable of registering and either skipping it or volunteering to work it with “Hey, they got my money for their cause and I got my shirt” as my lovely parting gift/consolation prize.

One of my BFF/RMs (Running Mentor) has even offered to coach me, she being a Certified Coach and everything.

*sighs*
Tomorrow my BFF/RM and I are getting back into our weekly yoga practice. That had to take a back seat to a greater need that had her completely gone (as in out of town) for six months.
But she’s back now.  And so is Friday Yoga Time.
Maybe that will help.
Keeping up with (or trying to) her fit-tabulousness could motivate a manatee!

WRWM is starting up again in July and HCRP and I are committed to being Volunteer Coaches again. And I have two months to get my tail – along with my legs and lungs – into “Why yes, yes I have in fact done this before” condition.

Thankfully, in addition to the return of BFF/RM, one of my ‘nother Favorite People and Running Gurus put some words on my screen this very day that said more about me than they did her. Even though I’m pretty sure she believes they were All About Her.

I also want to write. Maybe not about running, just in general.
But definitely I definitely want to write about running here.
Only it’s hard to write about something you’re not doing.

At least for me it is.

Maybe if you build the Give A Dang, the Want To will come . . .

*Edited for the sake of my mother, in case she ever reads this.

It’s only a goal if it’s your own

Assuming you know the story of My First MaraNot (if not go back and catch up, I’ll wait) . . .

Okay, now that we all know the story, there’s one line in there that turns out to be not-quite-so-true for me. When I said (repeatedly) and wrote (just the one time) “And, I still have a marathon to run!”, well, it turns out I didn’t really mean it. Okay I meant it in that ‘All the Kool Kids are saying/doing it!’ kinda way. But it turns out it wasn’t really so much a part of My Truth after all.

Those of you who are diehard, driven, The Goal is The Goal kind of folks might want to stop reading right now before you get to the ‘throwing up in your mouth a little’ part. Unless you already have and in that case: I apologize. Here’s a breath mint.

To say that I have been ambivalent about running for the past two months is an understatement of epic proportions. As I was sharing with my Sole Sister/RYL (Running/Yoga/Life) Mentor Tonia there was a day a couple weeks ago when I was sitting at my desk glaring at my gym bag when the thought “I’m just going to quit running” walked purposefully through my mind.
Followed by complete and utter silence.
There was no immediate outcry from The Parts of Me That Lurve Running.
There was nothing.
No argument.
No “But you’ve got Nashville coming up!”
Nada.
Zip.
Infinity x Zero = Crickets.
And that was the moment I realized that there was something seriously wrong.

The problem wasn’t running. I <3 Running! Really, I do!
I wrote more about running than my husband on Valentine’s Day!
If that’s not proof I don’t know what is.
But somewhere between Friday morning when I typed out that cherubic little missive to my sport of choice, and Saturday afternoon when Tonia texted me asking “Can you talk?” (or words to that effect) I realized that The Problem was The Goal.
Not MY Goal.
Rather the goal I picked up and took home that really wasn’t mine.

Here’s the deal. (Yes, I say that in actual conversation. Frequently.)
When St. Jude was cancelled I was upset.
Correction I was hurt.
Corrected correction I was hurt and disappointed.
Correcting the corrected correction: I was hurt and disappointed and angry.
I was robbed!
I’d spent six months of my life training to run that marathon and now It Wasn’t Happening!
Oh sure, I could have gone out on No-Longer-Race-Day and run the course – hundreds of people did and they had a blast!  But we had other things to take care of.
The next week there was very well put together Make Up Marathon I could have taken part of.  And I just couldn’t get into it.
I did neither of those things.
Because I spent six months of my life training to run That Marathon.
Nothing else.
Not the Run It Anyway Marathon, not the Make-Up Marathon, not even one of the three races we were given the opportunity to transfer our registrations to.
That Marathon.
The 2013 Memphis St. Jude Marathon.
And It Didn’t Happen.
Not because I couldn’t do it or because I didn’t feel like it.
The event simply didn’t happen.  (For completely valid reasons.)

In all, 100%, complete, total honesty my first reaction was “Okay, well, it isn’t meant to be.” And I was okay with that.
Until everyone around me started saying (to be encouraging and supportive) “So you’ll Find Another Marathon to do? Right? Right!! Yay Julianne! Ewe can dew eet!”
And because I didn’t want to be A Quitter, and because I didn’t want to let everyone else down, I Found Another Marathon! And I registered and I set up a training plan based on the one we’d used before and even with having to have one of my 2,000 parts forcibly evicted (removed, surgically, it was my gallbladder, not my brain) I had more than enough time to recover and train and Run My Marathon in April!
Only that wasn’t ‘My Marathon’.
It was Everybody Else’s Marathon.
I had been perfectly okay releasing my Marathon Dream to “Eh, it happens!” and move forward to my stated goals for 2014 that centered around reducing my times in shorter races and embracing my Inner Halfer.
But I said I was Running A Marathon!
And Everybody expected me to Run A Marathon.
Many of my running buddies dove headlong into the next closest-on-the-calendar Marathon and did it! Others opted to get into trail running, and some into really long trail running. I admire each and every one of them for what they’ve done.  Especially those really long trail running people.  (They’re crazy, but it’s that admirable kind of crazy.)  Sometimes admiration is the sincerest form of flattery, not imitation.
And when I finally said, out loud, to Tonia “I really don’t think I want to train for and run a marathon, any marathon” I felt like the weight of the expectation of a thousand expectated expectations were lifted from my shoulders.

Because here’s the thing: Nobody – not one person runner or non-runner – ever said to me “Okay Julianne I/we expect you to run another marathon or you will be dead to me/us!”
Nobody threatened to take away my Asics or all the miles I’d put in training or the fact that I love running or even the really cute skirt I’d bought Just For That Race if I didn’t find some other marathon to run.
*I* did that to me.
*I* put that expectation of an expectation on me. And them. But mostly on me. On their behalf. Wasn’t that good of me?

There’s nothing wrong with saying “Okay, that race didn’t happen” and taking that as the answer to “Is it part of my journey?”.
Funny thing is that when I blurted all of that out to Tonia her answer was “If it isn’t your passion – don’t do it!”. And when I shared with my ‘nother running friend Tracie on Sunday she said “If you’re not going to enjoy it – why do it?”
Yet another reason I <3 <3 <3 Runners!
We’re big fans of that whole “It’s your race!” concept in and out of our Asics. Or Brooks. Or whatever fits your footfall.

So I’m running in Nashville (and I’m still raising money as a St. Jude Hero, as is HCRP) but I’ll be running the Half. HCRP hasn’t fully made up his mind yet, and whatever he chooses to do is his race.

Won’t you be my Valentine?

Dear Running,
What to say?
I know I’ve been distant and aloof these past couple months.
Oh, I’ve flirted with you here and there.
Those quickies on the treadmill.
That long weekend in New Orleans that wasn’t everything it could have been. By the way, thanks for doing your part there even though I didn’t do mine getting ready and all.
But really, we both know my heart hasn’t been in it.
And truth be told, I haven’t missed you. Much.

Because I love being part of The Kook Kids Klub, I’ve kept up the facade that we’re still A Thing. But you and I? We know what’s been up between us. Or hasn’t.  Thanks for not blowing my cover.

And really, it hasn’t been you, it’s been all me babe.
I got my feelings hurt when that Big Date we had planned back in December fell through. That wasn’t you or me. It was that witch Winter Weather. But I let disappointment turn into a long-term pout and I took it out on you with that whole silent treatment thing.

Of course having one of my 2,000 parts decide to stop doing that voodoo it (used to) do so well and having to be evicted didn’t help. But I’ve been over that for weeks now.

I do still love you.
I promise.

I’ve got too much invested in this relationship to back out now.
And we’ve got that whole Spring Prom thing planned in Nashville at the end of April! I know you’ll be there and I have no intention of standing you up.
I’ve just needed my space.  Okay maybe not “needed” but I took it anyway.

But this morning I woke up truly and fully missing you.
Everything about you.
The sweat.
The time and distance with nothing but the two of us.
The caring about a time on a clock at a finish line and wanting to make it something different. 
The Zone. That mile or so when it feels like my feet aren’t even touching the ground and I Could Do This Forever.
And yes, even that first sucktastic mile or so when I have to remind the legs and the lungs that yes they’ve done this before.
Yeah, I woke up missing that too.

So I guess what I’m saying is it’s time we got back together.
For real now. No more treadmill flirtations or half-hearted weekend getaways.
It’s time for me to come back to you. You’re right where you’ve always been: under my laces, on the streets. Thanks for that.
See you tomorrow morning!

Well that takes some gall!!

At least it took all of mine!
I just crack me up sometimes…

I’m a big believer that our bodies are fearfully and wonderfully made.
Every part – from eyebrows to appendixes to baby toe toenails – serve a purpose.
When you get into the guts of the thing, all the things in our guts are particularly designed to work in concert together. Even the appendix. It’s there, isn’t it?
I digress.
It is because of this strongly held belief that I resisted the idea of having one of my internal organs removed. It is also because I am no big fan of general anesthesia. That’s a lot of drugs pumped into a body all at once, and anything they do that has the potential to stop respiration and cardiac activity without careful (and expensive) monitoring . . . well . . . I’m just not a big fan of having that done to me.
So I bought time, I did all I could to try and remedy its faulty performance, and in the end it was painfully (literally painfully) obvious that keeping it was going to wind up doing more harm than good. So I agreed to have it removed. Technically I asked to have it removed. And it was.

warning-tmi

Still reading??

You can’t say you weren’t warned.

Proceed at your own peril.

OFFICIAL DISCLAIMER:
Before going any further let me say one thing: I am not a doctor. 
I don’t even play one on television. 
I never even played pretend doctor as a child, I preferred playing teacher or mommy. 
What I’m sharing here is based on information provided to me by my GI Doc, my Surgeon, Internet Research on life post-Cholecystectomy, seeing what my son dealt with after his Cholecystectomy four years ago, and my personal (very short-term) experience.

There are (by my estimation and, to date, experience) several levels on which the body recovers from gallbladder surgery.
The Procedural Impact
This, in my mind, largely entails overcoming the short-term effects of anesthesia combined with the longer-term (anywhere from a week to 30 days depending on individual metabolism) ‘purging’ of said anesthesia from one’s system. My body takes at least a couple weeks to fully divest itself of anesthesia. I know this because it takes me a couple weeks (minimum) after being under general anesthesia to stop feeling doped in the mornings and succumbing to sudden attacks of mind-numbing fatigue mid-afternoon, followed by fighting sleep by 7pm. But that’s just my body. Some people can be knocked out and do advanced trig three hours later. Not The Girl.

The other procedural aspect that’s a tad uncomfortable is the bloated feeling you have in your abdomen because of the carbon dioxide that’s pumped into the abdominal cavity during the procedure to give the doctor space to see (through the itty bitty ‘Innerspace’-esque camera they insert in one of the incisions) and work (with the itty bitty snipper thingy they insert in aonther of the incisions). Basically you feel like you have horrible gas from eating way too much of whatever it is that gives you horrible gas.
You do not, in fact, have gas.
And you won’t fart.
Which is, to be honest, a little disappointing. Because you get to the point where you just know that if you could just fart – I’m talkin’ a Blazing Saddles campfire scene worthy fart – you would feel soooo much better.
But you can’t.
And you won’t.
At least I didn’t.

You just have to wait for the CO2 to ooze into the fibers of your being and out the pores on the other side of your skin and into the ether of the universe.

The First Cut is NOT the Deepest
When one has one’s gallbladder removed there are three distinct sets of cuts made:
#1: Skin incisions
#2: Muscle tissue incisions
#3: Separating the gallbladder from the cystic duct cut
Let’s take the healing of these incisions one-by-one.

#1: Skin Incisions
These are the least of your concerns. Seriously. I have four of them and all together they’re not four inches long. And mine look almost exactly like theseExcept the one in my navel looks like I scratched myself with my fingernails.
The worst part of these? The itching under the bandages in the first three or four days when they begin healing.  Seriously.  I’ve had hangnails that were more painful.
There was some bruising around the incisions. Frankly in the lowest left incision (your left in the linked image), and about an inch below my navel I looked like I’d been hit by a major league pitcher’s fastball. Then again, I bruise like a dang banana.

#2: Muscle tissue incisions
Remember how itty bitty those top three incisions are? The muscle tissue incisions are essentially three times as wide. And they go, well, all the way through to your guts. This takes longer to heal.
I’d say most of that has to do with the fact that they’re deeper and wider than the itty bitty skin cuts. But some of it has to be contributed to because look where they are! In the middle of your body. The abs. Your core.
Name one thing you do – other than blinking – where your core isn’t engaged in some shape, form, or fashion.
If you’re thinking about this longer than it takes to read this sentence, have an incision in your mid-section and that answer will come a whole lot quicker.
There’s not much.
Sneeze – core engaged.
Cough – core engaged.
Laugh – core engaged.
Accidentally start to turn over in your sleep – core engaged.
Reach for something one inch past the tip of your middle finger – core engaged.
Sit comfortably and raise your leg – core engaged.
It’s the mid-section equivalent of pulling your groin. Which is also engaged with everything you do with the possible exception of blinking.
I’m currently twelve days post-op and those incisions are still tender. And because they are tender I don’t 100% trust them to be 100% knitted back together so I’m holding off on getting back to running.
I will tell you that there is a palpable indication – aside from the tenderness – as to the healing status of these: Knots. You know exactly where how big this healing incision is because you feel it. While these internal incisions are healing they feel like knots under the skin. Tender knots you don’t want to bump into.
Have you ever backed really hard into a doorknob or the corner of a table and ended up with one of those big, deep bruises that has a hard spot in the middle of it? (No? Seriously?! I get to hate you for a minute because I do this all the time. Okay, I’m over it now.) That’s what these knots feel like.

#3: Separating the gallbladder from the cystic duct cut
This is, of all of them, the one that is the biggest crapshoot as far as I’m concerned.
“Why?!” I hear you asking.
Because there are no visual or physically palpable cues as to when the closure of this particular ‘cut’ is fully healed. I’m sure they cauterize it, or do something else to make sure it’s fully closed. But it still makes me a tad nervous.

So you’ve got all these incisions healing.
Which is the short-term impact of the surgery.

Going Forward: Your New Digestive System and You
There are two spects to your post-Cholecystectomy gastro-intestional experience: Upper GI (stomach) and Lower GI (intestines). The stomach’s only relationship to the gallbladder is that its fullness and contents triggers the liver to send bile to the gallbladder which essentially meters the amount of bile secreted into the small intestine to help break down whatever it is you’ve eaten. (That’s the ‘Sally, Dick, and Jane‘ explanation I distilled down from what the GI Doc and the Surgeon told me, and from the non-med-jargon laden websites I’ve researched.)

After your gallbladder has been sent to some medical waste facililty to be turned into whatever removed organs are turned into these two aspects of the digestive system become separate, but not equal. Not literally, but it starts to feel that way.

The Stomach just becomes its own thing. Or at least mine has.
It gets fuller quicker – which could have some positive weight loss benefits.
I burp. A lot. Which I find both embarrassing and annoying.
And there’s no telling what’s going to leave me feeling all heartburn-y and queasy.
According to my son (who had his gallbladder removed four years ago) this isn’t unusual and will (mostly, or not) pass.
My experience – after all of fifteen days – is that high fat foods are The Enemy.
I learned this after succumbing to pizza. Cheese pizza. Pretty sure it was the fat from the cheese that had my stomach churning and me feeling its every step through my intestines starting at 3am the other night.

Then there’s The Rest of The GI Tract
Remember that whole “gallbladder essentially meters the amount of bile” thing up there? Yeah. Those were the days, weren’t they? The days of metered bile.
You’ll miss those days.
I miss those days.

Because what happens once Ye Olde Bladdere of Galle is no more is that the liver, absent its more rational thinking partner, just dumps bile into the small intestine all willy nilly with little regard as to what might actually be required from one meal to the next. This “just dumps bile” thing is referred to as ‘Bile Dump Syndrome’ and . . . well . . . it’s just your new normal.
What essentially happens is that you re-learn how to eat.
You learn what you can (and can’t) eat that will (or hopefully not) trigger the Bile Dump, which will send the preceding contents of your intestines on a fast-track to . . . ummm . . . well . . .
Let’s just say that an over-abundance of bile tends to “over process” whatever is in your intestines not unlike a virulent stomach bug. You get what I’m saying here?
I’m still on the short end of this particular learning curve. And I’m not pushing it. (Completely unintentional pun there, but I’m leaving it.)
From all I’ve been told and read online this curve is a good six months to a year long. Which makes sense if you think about it. It takes babies a good six months to a year to learn to eat solid food too.

My biggest concern, as a runner, is what happens when I’m able to get back to actual distance running (8+ miles) that requires the consumption of fuel during a run which might result in runs of an entirely different sort? There’s also the natural effect of running a certain distance on a consistent basis to ‘get things going’ to take into account.
I plan to do some ‘test runs’ with shorter runs on a treadmill so I’m within decent proximity to a bathroom should such a need arise. Or, more accurately, drop.

One Last Bit of Advice:
The Pain Medication Effect
Whether you have your gallbladder, your wisdom teeth, or whatever surgery you might incur you will likely wind up taking pain medication for a day or two. Whatever might find you taking prescription pain killers, allow me to give you one last piece of advice: Stool softeners.
Everytime you take a pain pill, take a stool softener. Whether your doctor prescribes it or not (unless it is contra-indicated by some other prescription medication you take).
My doctor didn’t give me this piece of advice.
My BFF’s doctor gave her this advice nearly nine years ago when she had surgery.
I should have taken better notes that day.  Among other things I should have taken.

At the end of the day, I have no regrets over having had the surgery.
I was walking around with a ticking time-bomb in my gut and the impact of a ruptured gallbladder is far worse than any of the after effects of the surgery described above.
People die from burst gallbladders. Livers get damaged. Sepsis sets in.
And even if the faulty gallbladder never bursts, a poorly or non-functioning organ takes a toll on all the others it is attached to.
And with the digestive system, well, they call it a system for a reason.
Pick a random part of your vehicle’s engine, take it out of commission on some level, and let me know how the whole thing functions.
Get it?
Got it?
Good!

And there you have it.

If it isn’t one thing, it’s an organ…

This will be a short post.
It’s late (for me – it’s past 9pm).
I’m tired (I slept for crap last night).
And I’m under the influence of half-of-a-pain-pill.

Remember back in October when I wound up in the ER and then went to the GI Doctor and then he sent me for an ultrasound and then told me I had gallstones and he was all “We need to remove your gallbladder.” and I was all “Can it wait ’til after 2pm on December 7th?” and he was all “What the whaaaaa?!” and I was all “I have a marathon to finish!” and he was all “Okay as long as you’re careful what you eat and don’t have any more major flare-ups.” and I was all “I will totally make that happen!”?
And I did!
?  (The gallbladder keeping part, not the marathon.  Mother Nature had other plans for that.)
Sure you do!
Because you hang on every moment of my life.

Well, in the parlance of my boys when they were teenagers (aka about ten years ago – Holy Crap!  TEN years ago?!  That can’t be right.  No, wait.  It was.  Damn.  Sorry for the cuss word Mother.  I digress…) “Wha’ ha’ happen wuz….”  The ticker ran down on my gallbladder and it’s time to suck it up and get this thing out from under my skin (and liver) so I can move forward with marathon training.
And life.
But mostly marathon training.
Did I mention we’ve registered for The Country Music Marathon in Nashville on April 26th to get our marathon under our collective/respective belts?
No.
Oh.
Well…
We registered for The Country Music Marathon in Nashville on April 26th to get our marathon under our collective/respective belts.

Anyway…
Ye Olde Bladder of Gall hadn’t been bothering me since a couple weeks after my ER visit when I got stupid, and in a hurry, and ate convenient instead of healthy/smart.
Until last Friday.
I didn’t eat anything ‘bad’ (Read: High fat, fried, otherwise unhealthy) but by the time I got home from work I was fully expecting to wind up at the ER before sunrise Saturday morning.
That (thankfully) didn’t happen.
But the overall discomfort hasn’t ever gone completely away and since yesterday morning the inflammation has been significant enough that it is visibly more ‘swollen’ on the right side than the left.
Two days worth of phone calls to several different doctors offices later and I have an appointment Friday morning for a consultation with a surgeon.

I am hoping to have the surgery scheduled and completed before the end of this year.  Honestly, I’m hoping to have it done before Christmas.
Because of the holidays?
Ummm…
No.
So I can be recuperated sufficiently to be in full Marathon Training Mode by January 1st.
Because I do have my priorities…
*rolls eyes*
Runners.