When the Chips Are Down

by Patsy Collins
^{(creative writers at www.morewriting.co.uk)}
My husband John's job often involves long hours, so I've learnt to make the most of whatever time we have together. When he called me one afternoon, as I was preparing to leave my office, I nearly didn’t answer the phone. I’d planned to get away on time, race home and prepare for a relaxing evening together.

“Sorry, Jane love. Something’s come up.”

“You mean you’ll be late home again, should I plan to cook dinner a bit later?”

“Forget it altogether more like, I won’t be finished till gone nine at the earliest.”

He could tell I wasn’t happy.

“You could come in and sit with me?"

"All right, I'll bring a magazine to read."

"Good idea. I’ll get us a takeaway on the way home.”

It was almost ten by the time we were on our way home. I hadn’t eaten since midday, so I was really hungry.

“What do you fancy to eat?” John asked.

“Whatever’s quickest, preferably something I can eat straight away.”

As I spoke, we passed a chicken and chip place.

“That do?”

“Right now, I’d eat a scabby dog if it was well cooked.”

He took that as a yes and found a parking space.

“Two large chicken and chips please,” John said.

“We’re just packing up, you can have some ribs as well if you like? Save us chucking them out,” the lady behind the counter offered. She packed up our food, we were given so many chips she couldn’t close the boxes properly. Another box was filled with ribs and BBQ sauce.

We drove down to the seafront and ate the lot.

As we got into bed, I mentioned that I’d eaten too much.

“Yeah, me too. Still just once won’t do us any harm.”

Later in the night, my stomach started to hurt. I felt sick and before long, I made a dash for the bathroom and threw up. In the morning, I still had abdominal pain, but as John was fine, I knew food poisoning was unlikely. I thought I’d eaten too much greasy food too quickly, then not digested it before going to bed. It would be enough to make anyone ill. Well, anyone except John, but then he hasn’t had any medical problems since he had measles aged six.

I went to work and apart from not wanting to eat, I started to feel slightly better. By the time I was home again, I had no more than a bruised feeling on my right side. I thought that was because I’d been sick. John persuaded me to eat something that evening. I soon started feeling unwell again. The pain was severe, not in my stomach, but just below my ribs. I felt hot and threw up again. I felt dreadfully ill and only wanted to sleep. John tried to persuade me to get into bed. I tried to tell him why I couldn’t, but instead I was sick again – on him. Once I’d stopped, he carried me to bed. In the morning, I felt sick again, I made another dash for the bathroom, but was too weak to get there. By that time, I was bringing up nothing but bile, which is a bitter yellow liquid.

I lay on the top of the stairs, whimpering with pain. John wrapped a quilt round me and called the doctor. As it was the weekend, he was advised to take me to the local hospital where there is a drop in clinic for those in need of urgent medical attention. Perhaps because he’s never needed one, John hates hospitals, but he didn’t hesitate. He somehow got me into the car and then into the hospital. I don’t remember much about that trip. John tells me the doctor ruled out appendicitis and an ectopic pregnancy. He said I was weak because of dehydration and gave me an injection to stop me being sick. I was crying with the pain.

John took me home after I was advised to contact my GP on Monday if I was no better. The injection worked and after I’d drunk some tea, I felt slightly better. I didn’t eat anything for fear of being sick. I was still in pain and feeling generally unwell.

On Monday, I rang my doctor and was told to come in at the end of surgery. My GP examined me and said she thought I might have an inflamed gall bladder.

“You’ll need to have an ultrasound scan to be sure, but in the meantime don’t eat anything with any fat in it.”

“Was it the chips that caused this then?”

“They won’t have helped, but you must have had a problem for some time. With some people, there are stones that cause pain. You may have stones, or perhaps have just developed an inflammation. The scan will show us.”

“Then what will happen?”

“It depends on the scan, but the most likely outcome is that your gall bladder will be removed.”

“Don’t I need it?” I asked. “Isn’t that where bile is stored?” I could remember from biology lessons at school, that bile was needed to digest food.

“It is, but without it, bile will still be produced. It will drain constantly into the gut, rather than there being a surge when you eat. Large fatty meals might be a problem, but if you eat healthily you’ll be fine.”

I was given some tablets to take if I felt sick again.

I had more questions, but I thought I should wait until the diagnosis was confirmed. I tried really hard to avoid all fat in my diet. I got quite a shock when I read the details on the backs of ready meals; I couldn’t eat any of them. Once I got used to it, cooking without adding fat was easy enough, I added extra vegetables to stop me being hungry. After a few days, the pain was completely gone.

I didn’t have long to wait for my scan. It was the same as they do for pregnant women. When I got to hospital, I was introduced to a trainee technician. I was asked if I would mind him examining me. I was assured that the scan would be repeated by an experienced member of staff. I agreed. It would help the chap learn and I knew I’d be getting a thorough check. Special jelly was spread on my stomach and then the scanner moved across my belly. It didn’t hurt, even when it was pressed on the area over my gallbladder.

“Found it,” the trainee said.

He pointed out something on the screen to his colleague.

“What is it? Have I got gallstones?” I asked.

“Take a look,” the screen was turned round. It showed some squidgy grey stuff which was the scan of my insides. There was a black egg shaped thing in the centre.

“There’s your stone.”

“Just one?” I couldn’t believe one tiny stone had caused so much pain. I felt a bit of a fraud as I remembered my mum had suffered with gallstones. She’d had recurring pains for some time and when they removed her gallbladder there were nearly twenty stones.

“How much is that magnified?” I asked.

“It isn’t.” I was told. “If there’s just one then they often are big, yours is pretty impressive.”

“That must be painful,” the trainee said.

“It was a few weeks ago, it’s OK now.”

“The gallbladder is still badly inflamed. You’ll probably need to have it removed, but that’s best done when the inflammation is reduced.”

“Probably? Isn’t that what normally happens then?”

“If there is pain or inflammation then yes, but many people who have gallstones will experience very little pain. In that case, there’s no need for surgery. I don’t make that decision though. That’s for the surgeon and you to work out. ”

“I can’t understand why I’ve got this problem,” I said. “I eat healthily and exercise, where did I go wrong?”

“You didn’t. You’ve just been unlucky.”

Although I didn’t fancy an operation, I was relieved that I knew what was wrong and that it was treatable.

A few weeks after the scan, I was invited to have a consultation with a surgeon. He confirmed that I had a single large gallstone.

“What makes the stones then?”

“Gallstones are just bile that has hardened, often there are solidified lumps of cholesterol too.”

“And there’s no way I could I have avoided having this?”

“No, the risk is increased if you’re obese, but not all sufferers are overweight. Pregnancy, some medicines and increasing age also increase the risk. It’s thought that a vegetarian diet and a moderate amount of alcohol reduce your chances.”

“How many people have them?”

“1 in 3 women, 1 in 6 men will get them, but most won’t experience pain or require treatment. Only about a third of those with stones will ever be aware of them. In your case, the stone is clearly causing a great deal of discomfort and has lead to inflammation. That is likely to recur. I would suggest that the best treatment is to remove both the stone and the gallbladder.”

I nodded my agreement. I never wanted to go through that pain again.

“You’ll have a laparoscopic cholecystectomy. That just means that I will use a telescope device to see what I’m doing. It’s what’s known as keyhole surgery. I will only need to make small cuts, so the scarring won’t be bad and you’ll recover quickly.”

Three months after I’d first had the pain, I went in for the operation. John still hated hospitals, but he took me in and sat with me for as long as he was allowed. I knew he wasn’t comfortable and teased him about it.

“Don’t worry, they won’t take you by mistake.”

“I wish they didn’t have to take you either, but if it will stop you throwing up on me, I suppose it’s worth it.”

Afterwards I was in quite a lot of pain, but not as bad as when I’d had the inflamed gall bladder. John was there when I was wheeled back to the ward. He held my hand as he waited for me to come round properly. When I came to, I tried to thank him for being there for me. I spoke quietly, so he leant closer. I immediately threw up on him! (I’d had a reaction to the anaesthetic.)

Instead of stitches, I had big staples to hold the wound closed. They looked awful, dull grey metal about an inch across and they stuck out of my bruised skin. I was told they were easier to remove than traditional stitches. I was allowed home the following day. Getting in and out of bed was painful and I needed help at first. Each day I improved. Ten days later I was able to walk to the surgery and have the staples removed. I returned to work 12 days after the operation.

Two years on the scars are hardly noticeable. I can eat whatever I like now and I don’t have any digestive problems; some people do occasionally if they eat large fatty meals and mild diarrhoea is possible. In that case they would be advised to eat a low fat diet to reduce the symptoms.

My husband still works long hours, I still occasionally work with him, but for some reason he hasn’t bought me chips on the way home since.