Last night I had a dream. It scared the shit out of me.

I’d like to think that I’m not a complete wimp, but my sub-conscious decides to give me a reality check every once in awhile. I guess I thought I was just mildly upset about finding out I had gallstones. And I guess I was more angry than anything else initially about it because it’s one more fucking thing I have to deal with and now I have (almost) two babies to take care of and I can’t afford to be out of commission. Also, going under with anesthetic scares me.

Anyway, last night I dreamt that I was having my c-section. The husband was there and when they took Hayden out, he followed her over to the little “baby cleaning area” to take pictures, leaving me alone on the table. The nurse pulled the blue sheet that obscures ones view of the carnage away and I looked down to find that they had forgotten to stitch me up. Instead, the nurse had just covered the opening into my abdominal cavity with a white towel. At this point, something told me that I didn’t have much time so I called to my husband to bring the baby over to me but he wasn’t listening. It was all very dramatic. When I woke up from the dream, I was very upset. It was about 3am and I didn’t get much sleep after that. I kept worrying about dying and leaving my babies, and gallbladder surgery and anesthetic and infection in the hospital and blah, blah, blah.

I know that everything will be fine. I think that I have reached that point in my life when the realization that none of us are invincible has hit me. I am not invincible. I am meat and chemicals and brain and things can go wrong with those parts. I guess it didn’t bother me before because I didn’t have children who needed me. It’s so strange to feel so necessary and needed. Some days it takes my breath away. Some days I don’t even think about it.

The other night the husband and I were debating whether or not to stop in at a friend’s Christmas Party this weekend. We could drop Avery off next door for a couple of hours and drive the 40 minutes to our friend’s house, have a drink and a quick visit and then leave. We eventually decided that it wasn’t worth it. Then my husband said something that I had totally been thinking but was too afraid to say out loud for fear that he would think I was crazy. He said: “What if we got in a car accident on the way home and both died? You know, there are lots of drunks on the road at this time of year. Who the hell would Avery have if she didn’t have us?”

Holy shit. We are never getting in a car together again. Well, that’s a bit extreme. But obviously, both of us have seriously grown up a hell of a lot. And both of us are deeply connected to and in love with our baby. And it’s nice to know that I’m not the only crazy one in the house. It will be one of those fragile days for me I guess. Like I said, there are days when I do feel invincible still, but more in a determined way, not in an ignorant self-important way. Those are the days when you feel like a lion watching over your pride – you are big and strong and can protect your family from anything that comes along. I like those days the best.

But today, I am a rabbit.

and how was your evening?

Yesterday, as I was driving home from work, a familiar and horrible pain began in my stomach. Deep down, I knew what it was but I tried to pretend that it would go away by the time I got home. I was wrong. By the time I got in the door, I was doubled over in pain with a toddler clawing at me and a husband threatening to take me to the hospital.

I think I might have gallstones.

This is the second “attack” I have had in two months. Generally, it starts as what feels like massive gas pain in the right side of my stomach, but eventually becomes horrible, crippling pain that spreads to my back and right shoulder as I literally writhe around on the floor for 2 hours or more like a wild animal. Eventually, the pain subsides and I am left weak, pale and pretty fucking irritated with the whole thing. The last time this happened, I assumed it was gas. My husband looked at me when I told him this and told me that “there is no way that gas pain does that to someone”. As a firefighter, he goes to medical calls and he told me he thought I was passing a kidney stone or something. I would compare the pain to labour. Labour at about the time the idiot nurse let my epidural run out while I was in transition and dilated to 10 centimetres. She left the room for 45 minutes. If I ever see that woman again I will hurt her.

Anyway, the pain is that bad. My dad had his gallbladder removed when he was around my age because he had some gallstones. He tells me his attacks were like mine. And apparently, pregnancy can trigger these attacks. Yay. I’m 18 weeks pregnant with a broke-ass gallbladder. I still have not had a diagnosis. I am seeing the doctor next week and I imagine will have to go in for some tests. Maybe they can just take a gander at the old gallbladder when I’m in for my ultrasound on Tuesday.

This could turn out to be something completely different, but I’m thinking my assumption about gallstones might be correct.

I’ll update accordingly.