Good news first. The gallbladder is out, the surgery went fine, and I am officially down one organ I never once thanked.
Bad news. I’m sore, bloated, and grouchy enough that Jolene has started giving me a wide berth. I want to be in a good mood. I’ve tried. I’ve promised myself I’d be the cheerful, gracious patient from the movies, and so far I’m more the haunted-house inspector who keeps finding new problems.
But here’s what I didn’t expect. I posted about it on Threads, and the response was so warm I read some of it twice. People shared their own recovery stories, their food tips, their “this part is weird but normal” warnings, and a few jokes that made me laugh hard enough to regret it. I’d been warned about the side effects ahead of time, and I’m grateful for that too. It’s a lot easier to be annoyed at something you saw coming than something that blindsides you.
So thank you. Truly. You showed up for a stranger with a sore belly and a bad attitude, and I won’t forget it.
Today’s plan is therapy, then some writing and editing if my body cooperates. If it doesn’t, the manuscript can wait. It’s not going anywhere. Neither am I.
Wish me luck. I’ll report back when I’m nicer.
