Four weeks ago tomorrow, my gall bladder was removed after years of being told that I had acid reflux. While this is probably true to a certain extent, the removal of this offending organ has caused me such great relief as can only be known by those who have suffered from the same problem . . . of course, while bringing about a whole new set of problems due to the removal. Let's just say that the ole bod is having to learn new ways of dealing with such things as French onion flavored Sun Chips. Alas, those have been added to the "Do Not Ingest" list, at least for the time being. The problem - great waves of nausea. And while I admit that I gave it the ole college try (are these really what's making me sick?) and ate them no less than 3 times within a 2-week period, each time I had the same unfortunate reaction.
Other foods have caused similar problems, but I can only hope that, with time, things will get back to some semblance of normality, but without the awful crap I was went through for 7 weeks before the doctors agreed that, yes, Leslie! It IS your gall bladder! (7 weeks of health hell, thousands of dollars, and at least 3 unnecessary tests - well, at least to me unnecessary - later, they finally agreed with me.)
I believe that being in such good shape helped me bounce back quickly. However, the muscles around my poor belly button area have not bounced back quite as quickly as the rest of me. When one looks at oneself in the mirror and sees 3 small incision and one a little bigger than small, and one has no more gall bladder-induced pain, one has a tendency to say with great gusto, "I am back!" And then one goes out and does too much too soon and ends up having to console oneself with Vicodin (which is a really nice way to console oneself, if I do say so myself . . . and I do.)
So what's the crux of all this babbling? My belly button hurts, that's what. I'm having to get back into running at a slower pace than I anticipated, and that sucks. My first day of trail running in a month this past Saturday, followed by an evening of consuming an unfortunate amount of alcohol (something rarely done by me), which forced me to shake my booty - and thereby my tummy - on the dance floor of Steve and Dave's Bar, has put my belly button area out of sorts and set me back probably a good 3-4 days in recovery. I'm not looking for sympathy as I have single handedly caused my own misery. I just needed to vent for a moment.
As Albert Einstein once said: Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe.