Thanks for the Memories
Dear Gallbladder,
Was it too much to expect? It’s only been 62 years. The liver, pancreas, heart, lungs, spleen, small and large intestines, stomach, colon, ovaries, uterus and fallopian tubes are all still rolling along. Hell, even the appendix, adenoids and tonsils are still showing up for work 24/7. They are all still at attention, diligently working to keep me upright and feeling great; doing what they were meant to do. What an epic fail you turned out to be. Especially at a time when I simply don’t have the time for you. Are you honestly, going to allow a tonsil to outlast you after all we’ve been through?
Quitter.
Have there been challenges? Of course, and I understand that the demands of your job can be difficult at times, but the liver is there to help, and perhaps you two should’ve divided and conquered better. Did you even communicate about this?
When you showed up loud and clear with complaints about your work schedule three years ago, I listened! I took your recommendations and suggestions and really tried. But what you were asking was completely unrealistic. Fruits, vegetables, soluble fiber, lean protein, no dairy, no refined sugar, no processed food!! Where’s the joy in “vegetable medley,” “fruit cup,” “braised brussels.” Who wants a lentil and quinoa salad over a bacon cheeseburger with all the fixings? What about Grandma’s pizza on Friday nights? Or Taco Tuesday? Is queso forever off the menu??
What’s a woman to do? After a night of post-menopausal sweating that started 20 years ago with peri-menopausal and then just plain old menopausal sweating, lying awake ruminating about all the crap going on in my head about every member of my family, what’s the point of even getting up in the morning? As if I’m going to start the day with steel cut oats, and non fat greek yogurt? I already have to drink decaf coffee to keep my heart from racing, and now I can’t even put half and half in it? And you think you have problems?
What was the final straw? Was it the pork roll, egg, and cheese down at the beach a few weeks ago? Perhaps it was the boneless, breaded bbq wings with bleu cheese at the pool the other day? Or maybe the coup de grace was the pulled pork tacos and caesar salad with the spicy margarita at the US Open last week? Or, it could’ve been when I shared the girls’ mac and cheese and fries at my birthday party, followed by the buttercream frosted birthday cake. If I’m being truthful, though, I think it was the chesseburger, margarita, whole milk cappuccino and chocolate pot de creme I had with a friend the other day that really put the final nail in the coffin.
I’m willing to admit that there may have been better decisions made, but it’s summer and I slacked off. I guess the real mistake was counting on you to handle it. My bad. But, wow, your timing stinks.
So next week, as much as I’d love to save you, I must move on and, so you must go. A very skilled surgeon is going to sneak in there as quietly as possible and remove you from my body. Finally, you can put down your sword and remove your armor. Your time of rest has arrived. You shall suffer no more assaults on your fortress walls, there will be no further bludgeoning of your soldiers by runaway fat molecules. Off you shall journey to wherever it is that all the other epically failed gallbladders end up. And, what will happen to me you wonder? Well, I shall go on, of course. And without you, lentils, brussels and tofu will be a thing of the past. I’ll start off slowly, of course. We need to make sure liver can take on extra duty, but I’m counting on it. Grandma’s pizza is back on the menu.
Adieu, gallbladder. Thanks for the memories.
Liver, you’re up!