Three months and not a little confusion, falling-through-the-cracks and communication hiccups later, I finally had my gallbladder and its impressive payload of gallstones removed, in the latter days of June, courtesy of the NHS – just a week or so shy of its 70th birthday milestone.
Things went more-or-less as they should, save for the fact that a bigger than usual gallbladder meant a bigger than usual keyhole incision in my bigger than it should be abdomen. Then – as far as I can tell – this was followed by a bigger than usual amount of surgical rummaging about to sew me up. (In the words of my surgeon, it was a bit tricky … and that, I think, is as much detail as I choose to cope with.) Mea culpa though, at least in part, because for the first time in my life, obesity was cited as a co-morbidity. That’s a fairly brutal word to see, even though it doesn’t mean quite what you imagine it does. Ironic it was, all things on my healthy lifestyle journey considered, but I have to suck that one up.
But that wasn’t the end of things. A couple of weeks after my operation, with things generally going just fine, I found myself doubled-up in agony and back in hospital again, as some kind of surgery-related kink or blockage knotted my insides. That kind of pain, you really don’t want. It took several days to resolve, as I attempted to rest my protesting intestines, my arms perforated by cannulae, dragging a drip-stand wherever I went, and not get too stressed about it all; all in an overstretched, overheated ward, during one of the most suffocatingly steamy weeks of the decade.
But as the cliché goes, every cloud has a silver lining, and my silver lining has been that with the surgery, followed by the imposed starvation necessary to relax my twisted gut, I have waved farewell to a further 10 pounds. That leaves just 10 more to go until I’m back where I was at my lowest, in May 2017. That’s properly within reach now – so I’ll take that win.
Then, at last, I will be able to put the psychological, emotional and physical disruptions of the last 18 months behind me, and continue the onward/downward weight management drive. Hopefully by the next time I need hospital care (ummmm…. hopefully never?) they won’t feel the need to note obesity anywhere on my records.