But I still have my gall bladder, unfortunately. I won’t bore you with all the details but as I was prepped for surgery the doctor came in and said, “sorry, there’s a junior doctor’s strike and we’re not doing any elective surgery at all. You’ll have to go home and go on the waiting list there.” It’s socialized medicine and the most needy come first. I don’t have a problem with that at all. I just hate pissing away a week’s time doing absolutely nothing. They knew the strike was coming, they could have sent me home last week.

So here I am. Eating nothing but grass and twigs to keep the gallstones from clogging the pipes.

Drat.

I’ve not posted for a few days because I’ve been in the hospital with a gallstone attack. Make that two. The first trip went fine and I was ok after some pain killers and tests and after 12 hours I was sent home to await surgery. Next night at 2am, same thing - back to hospital and then another hospital and more tests and then more tests and geez, I hate hospitals. I haven’t been in a hospital other than for a bit of day surgery since my kids were born and that was in the last century.

It’s a teaching hospital so every man, woman or dog who came by wanted to poke and prod and go “hmmm” without saying a fricken thing. Finally I said, “I’m going to stand in front of the door and not let you out unless one of you tells me what’s going on.” So he said I could go home.

I have no desire to go again.

However, I was in a semi-private room (which sucked) and my roommate was a delightfully chatty woman who’d just had a breast reduction from a 38 G down to a small C. She was ecstatic and wanted to show her new boobs to everyone who’d have a look. Her boyfriend came in with a friend and she was fine with the friend having a look too. They oohed and ahhhed and I wanted to vomit. Ok, I wanted to vomit because I was sick but even if I hadn’t been sick I might have vomited too.

All I wanted was for her to shut her cheery face up and leave the curtain closed so I could moan in private.

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson the story of the two wolves. It’s about a battle that goes on inside people.

He said, “My son, the battle is between two “wolves” inside us all.

One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.”

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: “Which wolf wins?”

The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.”

I know in the past that I’ve fed them both and it’s way past time to choose one over the other.