People say stupid things like “paper cuts, those are the worst”, by which they mean in an ironic and hyperbolic way that “no, they’re not really the worst, but boy they’re annoying” or something like that. Well, I’ve found “the worst”.

I rarely share personal stuff — it seems a little too self-indulgent to blather on about one’s personal life online, one’s health issues, and what have you. And I suspect it all comes out more or less the same if you read enough of people’s blogs. But this was a spectacular incident, and for those who know me or for those who are suffering from such things, might be good to know or even useful.

I have suffered from periodic bouts of nighttime GI distress for the past two years. The episodes occurred almost always at night, and would generally wake me up from a sound sleep and would culminate in intensely painful cramping and sometimes nausea. It would typically pass after a couple of hours. My family doc, who is by reputation quite knowledgeable and skillful, diagnosed this as a “motility disorder” in my bowel, and suggested more fiber. We could never identify an obvious food trigger for this, although it always started sometime during the night, and often seemed to happen on weekends (clue).

Monday night, in a bout of Alton-inspired culinary madness, I decided to make fried chicken breasts. I soaked in buttermilk the night before, breaded in panko crumbs, and fried them in vegetable oil. They were tasty, but about 10:30 I knew something was up. By 11:30 the pain started, and by 12:30 I was in excruciating agony. Then the nausea started, and I lost count of the number of times I tried to vomit. By 3am the episode continued in its full fury, and I honestly thought I might die from the pain. It felt like someone was rooting around in my guts with a knife, and I wondered if an alien was going to burrow out of my chest at any moment. My husband heard my groaning, and promptly rushed me off to the ER.

Some IV painkillers and an ultrasound later showed the presence of two large stones in my gallbladder. And a recounting of my symptoms is an almost textbook description of a gallstone “attack” (aptly named, as they come under the cover of darkness and knife you in your sleep), which are most often triggered by fatty foods (the gall bladder stores bile, which is excreted by the liver to aid digestion of fats and proteins in the small intestine). I was discharged, went home to sleep, woke up with more pain, and eventually was admitted back to the hospital for more drugs and overnight pain management and observation. I think it was the anti-inflammatory drugs that finally did the trick. First time in a hospital for me since I was 5.

Surgery will be sometime soon. Apparently one doesn’t need the gallbladder, and once the stone problem is symptomatic, there’s no point in doing anything other than excising it. Its apparently a very common procedure, and according to the official info at least one with very few complications. Of course if you read the medical discussion boards, people have reported all sorts of terrible complications, and hint at a conspiracy of doctors who are making money off of a $2B “industry”.

I will be having the procedure done laparscopically, which involves very small incisions and a shorter recovery period. Apparently you want your doc to be well-trained and experienced in this kind of procedure. My doc (who is also rather handsome) is a professor of laparoscopic surgery or somesuch, but I’ll still be asking lots of questions about success rates, complications from damage to liver and bile duct tissues, and the like.

I hate the idea of having surgery, but I wouldn’t wish this kind of pain on anyone ever, much less myself again.