{"id":2667,"date":"2018-06-12T20:27:55","date_gmt":"2018-06-13T01:27:55","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/?p=2667"},"modified":"2018-06-12T20:34:31","modified_gmt":"2018-06-13T01:34:31","slug":"my-human-pearls","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/2018\/06\/my-human-pearls\/","title":{"rendered":"My Human Pearls"},"content":{"rendered":"

When I first wore my necklace, I made sure the new bead was discreetly hidden under my shirt collar.\u00a0 It would have blended well with the others.\u00a0 But it was uniquely mine and I didn\u2019t want to share it just yet.\u00a0 Plus I had worked so hard to harvest it.<\/p>\n

It was my gallstone, my human pearl.<\/p>\n

From childhood, I\u2019ve always been curious about what goes on deep within.\u00a0 My curiosity led to a career as a pathologist, where I\u2019ve had the privilege of looking at others\u2019 organs \u2013 yards of intestines, slabs of lungs and liver, uteri and ovaries removed at surgery. \u00a0But let\u2019s face it, by the time a pathologist gets up close and personal with an organ, at the very least it has lost its spunk, its verve, its joie de vivre.<\/p>\n

As I slogged my way through a busy day processing chunks for microscopic review, I nurtured a delusional idea that my own working organs would stand out, have a flash of personality that would pique interest and draw a crowd.\u00a0 They were as much a part of my individuality as anything on the outside.<\/p>\n

I probably had a gallstone for years, harmlessly bobbing on a sea of gooey green bile, but now it had wedged itself into the tiny duct connecting the liver to the small intestine.\u00a0 An episodic boring pain had turned continuous.\u00a0 I knew surgery was inevitable.\u00a0 My gallbladder had to come out.<\/p>\n

The surgery seemed like such a nuisance \u2013 it was a routine procedure, requiring no va-va-va voom surgical heroics, more akin to removing a rotten tooth, only the gallbladder is inconveniently located and required more than a strong arm and a pair of pliers.\u00a0 However, besides my troubled gallbladder, the surgeon would see everything in working order \u2013 my smooth and glistening liver, my humble and rumpled spleen in the upper left and coils of shimmering intestines with quaking contractions snaking down their length.<\/p>\n

I was jealous of the surgeon.\u00a0 I wanted what he had \u2013 a peek under the hood.\u00a0 I realized my interest in human infrastructure might not be widely shared, but I wanted a memento.\u00a0 Here was my chance.\u00a0 I could ask the surgeon to let me have my gallstones, much the way children keep their baby teeth.\u00a0 The gallstones were mine.\u00a0 I had made them.<\/p>\n

At this point, I had segued from the world of pathology to the arcane world of health insurance and knew firsthand of the horrifying waste in our system, of unnecessary emergency room visits, unnecessary tests, unnecessary hospitalizations, stalwart gatekeepers.\u00a0 I to be the role model of efficiency, to show how it could be done.\u00a0 I was determined to bring this surgery in on time and under budget \u2013 after all I was expecting 38 family members for Thanksgiving the following week.<\/p>\n

I called my internist to schedule an abdominal ultrasound to verify my stones.\u00a0 I figured I could get that done by midmorning, and then, ultrasound in hand, somehow find a surgeon willing to pop me onto his OR schedule.\u00a0 I never got past the first gatekeeper.\u00a0 The receptionist said that the doctor wouldn\u2019t order an ultrasound until he had seen me, and he could not see me that week.\u00a0 I heard the snap of gum as she said, \u201cHoney, just go to the emergency room.\u201d\u00a0 Over budget immediately.<\/p>\n

As expected, the ER doctor told me that the first step was an ultrasound.\u00a0 As the orderly wheeled me off, I realized that from my selfish perspective, entering the health care system through the ER was very efficient.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t have to call around to make a radiology appointment, find parking, wait in the office or find a surgeon.\u00a0 Not only was I going directly to ultrasound, but I was being pushed in a very comfy gurney with crisp white sheets and a toasty blanket.<\/p>\n

The technician moved the transducer across my stomach.\u00a0 \u201cThat\u2019s a big stone,\u201d she said, pointing at a fuzzy round object casting a huge shadow. \u00a0\u201cLook at that inflamed wall \u2013 you\u2019ve got yourself a hot gallbladder.\u00a0 Needs to come out right away.\u201d<\/p>\n

That was the moment I decided to let it all go, stop trying to be totally self-sufficient, stop trying to find meaningless work-arounds and economies.\u00a0 It was time to become a patient and be grateful for our crazy health care system that allowed me to waltz into an ER and announce, \u201cHere I am, let\u2019s take it out.\u201d<\/p>\n

I overheard the ER doctor telling a prospective surgeon that I was \u201creally nice.\u201d\u00a0 I was flattered but knew I was falling into the classic doctor\/patient relationship where the stricken, vulnerable patient ingratiates herself to the life-saving surgeon so he\u2019ll do a better job with a sharper scalpel.\u00a0 When I timidly asked about the experience of the surgeon on call, the ER doctor told me that he would have no qualms about letting this surgeon slice up his own family.\u00a0 Sounded good, but also like the sales tactic stockbrokers use, e.g. \u201cthis stock is so great that I even bought some for my Mom.\u201d<\/p>\n

As I waited for the nurse to set up the IV, I tried to work on the Sunday New York Times crossword I had brought to fill the inevitable idle moments.\u00a0 This puzzle always has a quirky theme, and one of the big breakthroughs is the AHA! moment when I crack the theme.\u00a0 The pain made concentrations difficult.\u00a0 I let the pencil drop, laid the magazine across my chest, closed my eyes and listened to the comforting beeps and hums surrounding me.<\/p>\n

The nurse casually asked, \u201cOn a scale of 0 to 10, where is your pain, if 0 is no pain and 10 is the worst pain you could possible imagine?\u201d\u00a0 This was a standard question, just a box to check on my chart.\u00a0 The nurse wasn\u2019t even looking at me to assess visible signs of pain, a clenched jaw, white knuckles as I gripped the bed, or a dewy row of perspiration on my upper lip.\u00a0 It was entirely up to me to self-rank.<\/p>\n

The question seemed very tricky, one that required careful deliberation.\u00a0 First, the worst pain imaginable was only limited by my ability to conjure up agonizing scenarios.\u00a0 I remembered a gruesome scene in the movie Casino Royale, where a naked James Bond sits on a caned chair, except all the caning has been removed, exposing vulnerable and dangling body parts.\u00a0 That would be a 10.\u00a0 I could never self-rank my pain as a 10 because there must always be something worse.\u00a0 I wanted to give a credible pain rating to let the staff know that I was the best kind of patient \u2013 not stubborn and stoic but not a hysterical malingerer either.<\/p>\n

My quest for my gallstones was getting complicated \u2013 much harder than I\u2019d thought.<\/p>\n

The nurse returned holding a syringe and once again asked me, \u201cOkay where are you on a scale of 0 to 10?\u201d\u00a0 This time she looked at the crossword lying on my chest and I imagined her thinking, \u201cHow bad could the pain possibly be if this woman is doing a crossword?\u201d<\/p>\n

I was tempted to defend myself.\u00a0 \u201cLook I can always knock off the Sunday puzzle, takes me about an hour at most.\u00a0 Well, maybe I can\u2019t get some of the smaller words, but I ALWAYS get the larger theme words, without any Wikipedia or other lifelines.\u00a0 Every Sunday.\u201d\u00a0 Then I would hold up the blank puzzle and show her, \u201cLook I haven\u2019t made any progress.\u00a0 I just can\u2019t focus.\u00a0 Trust me, the fact that I can\u2019t do this puzzle is a better testament to my pain level than any moaning or groaning.\u201d<\/p>\n

A compelling argument from my point of view, but one that would only resonate with other cruciverbalists.<\/p>\n

I wanted to ask, \u201cHow do most people rate their gallbladder pain,\u201d and then pick something in the mid-range \u2013 I\u2019ve never wanted to be an outlier.\u00a0 I juggled all these factors as the nurse wielded the syringe of blessed relief.\u00a0 \u201cI guess my pain level is about six.\u00a0 Does that sound about right?\u201d<\/p>\n

This strategy hit the right notes.\u00a0 The nurse squeezed the plunger.\u00a0\u00a0 In a flash of morphine-induced clarity, my AHA moment burbled up before me.\u00a0 The crossword theme consisted of a word starting with the letter \u201ca\u201d followed by a double consonant, like the word \u201caffair.\u201d\u00a0 The trick was to drop one of the consonants to produce two words with a new meaning.\u00a0 \u201cAffair\u201d would become \u201ca fair.\u201d\u00a0 The pre-morphine clue I had been struggling with was \u201cmechanic\u2019s task.\u201d\u00a0 Now the answer was obvious, written on the insides of my eyelids.\u00a0 I thought of evening attire, dropped the \u201ct\u201d to produce \u201cevening a tire.\u201d \u00a0\u00a0Boom!\u00a0 I\u2019d done it, solved it.\u00a0 I flushed with pride.<\/p>\n

As I was wheeled into surgery the next morning, I thought about all the gallstones I had seen in my career. \u00a0Some were truly beautiful, a polished green color.\u00a0 Many had interesting shapes, smooth and round or crazily multi-faceted.\u00a0 I hoped my large stone would be one of the pretty ones.<\/p>\n

The surgeon stood over me, cap on his head, face-masked, gloved hands held upright.\u00a0 \u201cAre you ready?\u00a0 Shall we do it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, but I have one request.\u00a0 Please let me have my gallstones.\u00a0 Don\u2019t let the pathologist throw them out.\u00a0 I want them.\u00a0 They\u2019re mine.\u201d<\/p>\n

He nodded and waved to the anesthesiologist.\u00a0 In a flash they snagged the gallbladder, using instruments inserted into four small incisions.\u00a0 A day later, I strode out of the hospital, down one expendable organ and looking like I\u2019d won a duel with an ice pick.<\/p>\n

At home I sat at my desk and looked at the two stones the surgeon saved for me. \u00a0One was a quarter of an inch in diameter with a concave surface from nestling up against another stone.\u00a0 The other was the size of a jawbreaker, perfectly round, the alpha stone.\u00a0 It was beautiful, artistic, a rich green color studded with white cholesterol crystals.\u00a0 I had a necklace containing a similar bead made from a deep greenish black resin, the type of color catalogs give ridiculous names to \u2013 summer seaweed or midnight forest.\u00a0 Perhaps catalogs could use \u201cgallbladder green\u201d as their newest provocative color description.<\/p>\n

Those stones wer my human pearls, like the oyster who turns an in irritation to a thing of beauty.\u00a0 I decided to incorporate my large pearl into my necklace.\u00a0 The jeweler was suspicious at first, but then I pushed the plastic cup across the counter top.\u00a0 \u201cWow, I see what you mean, that\u2019smreally pretty.\u00a0 Never seen anything like it.\u201d<\/p>\n

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When I first wore my necklace, I made sure the new bead was discreetly hidden under my shirt collar.\u00a0 It would have blended well with the others.\u00a0 But it was uniquely mine and I didn\u2019t want to share it just … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":true,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2667","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p7iVc8-H1","post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2667","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2667"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2667\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2671,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2667\/revisions\/2671"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2667"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2667"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2667"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}