So here's how I remember last week;
Tuesday night I had another gall bladder attack, this one triggered by green leafy salad and grilled chicken.
I'd spent the night in St Vincent's Hospital early Summer with my first ever gall bladder attack, only opting to attempt diet change to prevent further attacks rather than have it removed. The ultra sound had showed it to not be infected and the doc gave me a clean bill and sent me on my way.
A few weeks later I had another attack, this one nowhere near as bad and drinking down some water with apple cider vinegar seemed to help it.
Two weeks or so prior to this big attack I had another one, this one extremely minor but I was beginning to realize that there might be more to this than I was willing to admit.
The Tuesday night attack had Veronica trying to convince me to go to the hospital again, I was convinced at that point it was getting better.
When I woke up Wednesday at it was still bad I knew this was different. I hemmed and hawed and finally let her drive me to the hospital where I promptly doubled over at the check in. Within seconds hands were helping me into a chair and soon they were pumping me with pain killers, only this time the pain killers did nothing. And this was morphene. They gave me something 10x more powerful and that helped me sleep thru the night, they even made up a bed for Veronica so we spent a mostly peaceful night in a quasi drug induced la la land.
In the morning they rushed me into surgery, I was awake and they told us to say goodbye. We don't lie to each other, she was already pretty upset so rather than say what I was thinking, that there was a good chance I wasn't coming through this, I told her to remember the bond we have, and the fact that we both believe in ghosts. Basically I said if I didn't make it I'd be back and she'd feel me there.
I don't remember anything else but waking up with a mask on my face and a nurse saying something like "do you know you have .... Down your nose and throat?"
I nodded yes to whatever she said and she took the mask off which pulled something out of my nose or throat or both. I asked if my wife was there and they said yes, but in my groggy state I couldn't see her. The surgeon came over and said I did great, said he took a picture of it that he'd show me later, and he apologized saying he'd upset my wife talking to her. He said we got it out in the Nick of time, and that it was the worst one he'd ever seen.
I askedfor Veronica again and then she was there. A prettier site I'd never seen. I'll remember those big brown eyes as long as I'll live, which I suspect is going to be a long time.
Because I have that guardian angel.
And I believe.