bad gallbladder! BAD!

The conversation had begun on the 16th, late at night. As is usual for him, he broke the topic with a cryptic text: "They gave you your gallstones after the surgery, right?"
Apropos of nothing, out of the blue, no precursor.
So, I texted back that I thought they did, what's up? Eventually, I tired of texting and made sure he knew he could call if he wanted to talk.
So, he did.
And we talked for over an hour, until the clock had gone into the hours of the next day.
He had been having intestinal problems. They thought initially that it was pancreatitis, but eventually ruled that out. Now, they were thinking gallbladder. Testing had confirmed that his bile storage unit, aka gallbladder, was full of gallstones and no longer functional.
Not a big deal, I had assured him. The surgery was laparoscopic, so there would be a few small scars and some extra gas for a while, but moving around would not be an issue. The bigger problem, I had told him, would be recovery from the anesthesia. Especially as we age, that recovery time lengthens into ridiculous spans and includes no decision making for up to a week.
He hadn't recalled that recovery from going under had been an issue for him when he had the four stents placed into his heart (two in February 2004, two more in February 2007). I told him that perhaps he had not, but that he should expect to now as he was now older.
I don't think he cared for that, but, as he would say, "there it is".
He was mostly bummed out that he would not be making his usual drive south to visit his daughters during the holidays. His consultation with the gastrointestinal surgeon was slated for the day after Christmas. So, he could drive down, but would miss seeing the girls on Christmas Day as that day would be needed for the return drive.
Also, I don't know that he would have been physically able to perform that 17-hour drive in his current condition.
I don't think he wanted to admit that aloud, true or not.
So, in Michigan he would remain this December.
His 49-for-the-first-time birthday was last Friday, the 20th. I sent him a text, knowing he would be at work and not answering his phone. I then sent a few reminders to folks about his birthday and then hooked up with my first niece and her family for a last night with their three foster children.

Last Sunday, I was awakended at 5:30 AM with diarrhea.
I rushed to the bathroom, barely making it in time. Afterward, I got back in bed and had just snuggled into the warmth when I had to rush out of bed again. And again.
Continuously.
Then, at 8:00 AM, my body added vomiting to the repertoire.
Thank God for the little plastic trashcan by the toilet.
After that, it was repeat, repeat, repeat.
I have no idea where my body was still getting the stuff it was spewing out of me.
All I could think was: I haven't been this ill since my gallbladder went bad six years ago.
Same symptoms, same nasty results.
Was this what he had been going through, too? Most likely. Given the fatty foods he loads into his diet, I was sure his body had been as violently rejective of input as mine was being.

The physicist texted me later on Sunday night.
bfe: Yo! You be going to Odd Lot tomorrow?
me: I certainly plan to do so. Have been crazy sick today.
bfe: That's not good. if your nose is running I hope you catch it! ha ha.
me: Thank you. My nose is fine. It is my stomach and digestive tract that have had me running to the toilet since 5 AM. Hope it is just 24 hour. Going to try to sleep again.
bfe: I'll check with you tomorrow to see how you are feeling. Get some good sleep and rest Faustina. Have pleasant dreams and feel better.

On the 23rd (i.e., the next afternoon), he did check back in;
bfe: Hey, Faustina, how ya feeling? I know how much it sucks to be sick.
me: Better. Mostly been sleeping a lot. Had some chicken soup and it stayed so that is good. :) That was five hours ago. Making some pasta now.
bfe: Sounds like you might have had a bought with da flu. :( It both is good and it sucks to get sick on your own time.
me: Possible but i may also have overloaded my system on fat at a Christmas party Saturday night.
bfe: Ever since I texted you yesterday my nose has been running. And I have been sneezy. Did I catch something from texting you yesterday?
me: My NOSE is fine. :) I just need to be more mindful of beef and chocolate and such.
bfe: Oh, that's not good for you at all. I'll look on eBay and see if we can find you a gently used gall bladder.
me: I am still not sure about Odd Lot tonight. Are you going?
bfe: I was thinking of going but I am going to pass. A cursory search on ebay has not turned anything up so far.
me: Drats. I think the sale of body parts is discouraged. At least in this country.
bfe: Marilyn Monroe had gall bladder surgery.
me: Really? i wonder how old she was. I was 49 when i had my gall bladder evicted.
bfe: She was 34 years old when her gall bladder was removed. Joe DiMagio was standing by.
me: That was sweet. Sorry to hear about your nose. :(
bfe: It's ok... More annoying than anything else.

Odd. I hadn't mentioned my symptoms as being those of a gallbladder in distress, but the topic had risen of its own accord. From flu to gallbladder distress in one fell swoop. Oh, and some Marilyn thrown in, too, as we must remember at all times about the thirteen-year-old boy.
(Smile.)
So, back to the topic at hand: the ex's dilemma.
Today, the day of his GI surgical consult, I waited for his result. I didn't want to text him, partly because I had no idea what time he was to see the doctor. Better to wait for his call or text.
Finally, at 5:45 this afternoon, word came.
ex: Cardiac stress echo scheduled for January 2nd. Wants to make sure there are no surprises, given my medical history.
me: What about the gallbladder surgery? When is it scheduled?
ex: One thing at a time.
me: Well, at least it will be after the new year. What kinds of tests are to be done?
ex: Stress echo, just like I used to have at Hardigan's office.
me: Have you talked to Auntie about all this?
ex: Thursday, I think. Her card played that hamster song you used to adore! And thank you for the tree, honey.
me: You are very welcome. And don't use energy worrying about the cardiac test this next week.
ex: I'm not worried about that. Stress echo? I can do that in my sleep.

He probably can. He's had lots of practice these past ten years.
I hope all will go well.
I really do.