The "welcome" sign on the front desk in the ER said that the average wait time before being seen was 3-4 hours. Surely that was meant to scare people with non-emergency-room-caliber maladies, I foolishly thought. I checked in, went through triage 15 minutes later, and then went back to the waiting room. The pain continued to crescendo until I was experiencing what was undoubtedly the most excruciating pain I have ever felt in my life. It felt like Mike Tyson was continuously punching me in the stomach.
The pain eventually got bad enough that I asked for some pain meds while I waited, and the nurses mercifully gave me an IV of anti-inflammatory meds, which seemed only to increase the pain. A little while later, I began to feel like I was going to pass out, so I asked if there was anywhere I could just lie down while I waited (other than the floor). There was not. But there was an open double wide chair, and the nurse said she could bring me some blankets that I could use as a pillow. I went over to the chair, curled up in the fetal position, and wrapped my legs around the chair next to me (since they're all connected to each other and can't be moved). Over the next several hours, I tried to adjust myself, but no position was comfortable. I puked twice -- loudly and violently, as that's the only way I know how -- much to the chagrin of the 30 other people in the waiting room. I was confident my appendix had burst and I was on the brink of death, as it was undoubtedly poisoning my innards. I tried to fall asleep, but was just basically lying there moaning like a dying goat.
Finally, at around 1:30 a.m., well over four hours after I arrived, I heard my name called. I popped up as much as I could at that point, limped over to the nurse, and then was finally given a room in the ER. The doctor that saw me almost immediately predicted that it was a gall stone, based on the location of my pain. Most importantly, I got some morphine, which is, quite simply, a wonder drug. Then I got a CT scan and then an ultrasound, and sure enough, I had an infected gall stone that was completely blocking the opening to the gall bladder. So with that, I was admitted, set to have surgery to remove my gall bladder, ensuring the elimination of not only the stone, but any of its progeny.
By the time I was admitted, it was already past 7 a.m., and they couldn't schedule me for surgery until the following day because everything was already booked up, so I basically had a full day of just lying in a hospital bed and watching TV. The Sox played a day game, and then there was a Die Hard marathon on AMC, and then I watched the very exciting Game 1 on the Stanley Cup finals, so it wasn't all bad.
- The 1994 Montregall Expos
- Another Brick in the Gall
- Anthony Michael Gall
- Archie Bunker
- Austin Powers in Galldmember
- Battlestar Gallactica
- Better Call Gall
- Bile the Kid
- Biley Cyrus
- Boutros Boutros Galli
- Chagall
- Charles DeGall
- Conrad Dobler
- David and Galliath
- DeGall University Blue Demons
- Gall and Oates
- Gall Godot
- Gall Goodman
- Gall In the Family
- Gall Konerko
- Gall McCartney
- Gall My Children
- Gall of Duty
- Gall Rosenberg
- Gall State Cardinals
- Gall With the Wind
- Gallbert Godfried
- Galldfinger
- Galldylocks
- Gallileo Gallilei
- Gallimimus
- Gallipoli
- Gallnold Schwarzenegger
- Gallt Disney
- Gallter Payton
- Gally
- Gally Madison
- Jonathan Livingstone Seagall
- John Gallt
- Joe B. Gall
- Kids in the Gall
- Laura Ingalls Wilder
- Lauren Bagall
- Lavar Gall
- Legends of the Gall
- Liberté, égallité, fraternité
- The Mad Bladder
- Persian Gallf
- Raphael Nogall
- Robert Dugall
- Sir Gallihad
- Steve
- Steven Seagall
- Svengalli
- Sylvester Sgallone
- Tigall Woods
- Two Galls One Cup
- Vincent Van Gall
- The Wolf of Gall Street
- Zooey Deshegall
At the end of the day, I went with none of them, and named it Willie Gallt, who met its fate Thursday afternoon, or so I assume, based on the scars on my abdomen.
I spent Thursday night in the hospital recovering, as the pain after surgery was just about as intense as the pain Willie Gallt caused me Tuesday night.
The most pressing issue -- other than the extreme physical pain I was in -- was that I had tickets to see The Strokes at the Metro Friday night. It was a special fundraising show for a local congressional candidate, and it was supposed to have been May 30, but then one of the guys in the band got COVID, so they had to reschedule. I was very pumped for the show, as I assume I won't have the chance to see The Strokes in such a small venue ever again. But given how much pain I was in Friday morning still, I was becoming pessimistic that I would be able to go because if anyone bumped into me at the show, I would have fallen to the ground in pain. Then my lovely wife emailed the Metro and got me on the list for the ADA section. Even though I didn't have the best view, it was still a fantastic show. Presumably as a nod to my choice to attend, the band's first song was "Bad Decisions." They sounded amazing, and I am glad I muscled through it, coming out unscathed by any errant elbows or shoulders. My only gripe is: what the fuck is with millennials needing to record every single song at a concert? Just enjoy the fact that you're there and have an organ that produces bile, for Christ's sake.
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