Let He Who is Without Sin Cast the First Gallstone

It was just the second day of year 2012. The night was uninterruptedly placid. Serene. Young.

I was formatting my sister’s laptop while prepping-up for the next day’s first day of work for the year. I felt the usual heartburn and the cramps in my upper abdominal area which I just brushed off. I realized it was already 10pm and I still haven’t eaten dinner. Since I was no longer a stranger to this pain, I told wifey that I’ll just lie down ‘til it fades off. She gave me the usual medicine and waited.

Minutes passed. The ticking of the clock seemed to get louder. I was staring at the ceiling when different forms of shapes and odd figures started growing in front of my nose like as if I was in a montage of old photographs. I felt like I was in a trance. Everything is numb. Everything. Except for the increasing pain crawling to my chest.

High pain tolerance. That’s what I thought I have. I claimed that I was able to endure this in years and I can hang on in a few more minutes. Or hours. Or days. I figured Emily Dickinson whispering to my ears her famous quote “After a great pain, a formal feeling comes. The nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs” and hoping it will soothe me. It didn’t. Consequently, the burning sensation intensified and my thought process of selecting a logical choice from the available options started to diminish. I had to go to the hospital.

My wife and I hailed a cab and flew over to Medical City in Pasig. It wasn’t the nearest. Not definitely the cheapest. Nor my favorite hospital. I just wanted immediate and fast medical attention and I have tested this institution to satisfy me with this need. It didn’t fail my expectation. I was put under series of questions and was asked how I felt at the moment. I wanted to answer “don’t you see I’m f***in’ whimpering in pain?” but I realized that the earthling wearing a white suit in front of me is going to be my savior tonight so I answered in a feeble confirmation “I am having another gallstone attack.” Notwithstanding the sea of people all groaning in agony in the hospital’s emergency room, I got drugged in no time. I felt the fluid came gushing into my veins and lingered for the healing (and, okay… placebo) effect.

Minutes passed. The ticking of the clock was louder than ever. I stared at the ceiling and forced different forms of shapes and odd figures grow in front of my nose like as if I was in a montage of old photographs. I felt myself that I was in a trance. Everything is numb. Everything. But still… except for the increasing pain pounding my chest.

I requested for a higher dose, err… demanded rather, and with the power of my fiery eyes I was given another shot. I closed my eyes and counted (blessings instead of) sheep being chased by blood-sucking Persians to divert my attention to so I can forget about this torturing pain. I tumbled… lied down… plummeted… lurched… slouched… lunged… sat… played dead. Nothing has helped to ease the upsurge of pain.

My attending doctor declared that all possible remedies have already been exhausted and asked me if I would like to undergo immediate surgical operation – the last resort and most effective option. Like as if I wanted to ask “do I have a goddamned choice?” but I remembered to be nice, and nodded submissively. He ordered me to be admitted straightaway and ordered for an ultrasound examination, a procedure for the doctors to get a glimpse on the extent of my gallbladder’s current condition and activity. I was immediately escorted to my room on a wheelchair and was asked to wait for a few more hours since the operation was scheduled at 8am the next day. It was like saying “enjoy the pain until the next breaking of dawn while it lasts.”

Inside the cozy and lush hospital room, I waited and endured the unbearable pain. Hours passed. The ticking of the clock became as loud as it can be. I stared at the ceiling and found again these different forms of shapes and odd figures that grew in front of my nose like as if I was in a montage of old photographs. I was in a trance again. Everything is numb. Everything. Consequently… except for the horrifying pain buffeting in my chest.

My private nurse (I didn’t know there is such in this hospital) came over to pick me up. He shove my wheelchair to the ultrasound room and in his attempt to establish rapport with me, he asked me the million dollar question “is it painful, sir?” I wanted to fire back “No! Actually, I’m having fun that’s why you are bringing me to the ultrasound room, ain’t I?” but since he seems to be nice, I just smiled back and rolled eyes. He assisted me to lie down in the laboratory bed right next to the ultrasound machine and vanished in my eyes like a nightcrawler.

Two mammals in white laboratory gown came in. One who seemed to have just awakened from his hibernation and another whom I have mistaken to be Love Añover pretending to be a doctor. They flicked the monitor open and started the procedure while both murmuring with each other.

“to the left, to the left…”
“so go ahead and get gone…”
“he'll be here in a minute…”
“to the left, to the left…”
“you can pack all your bags we're finished…”
“irreplaceable?...”

I shook my head if I’m hearing it right. I realized I was hearing something else. The lines are from something I have heard before. I eavesdropped a little bit more and alas, I reckoned that they were discussing about the size and location of the enormous stones in my gallbladder. They both gave the go-signal that I must really undergo laparoscopic cholecystectomy as my organ is no longer in good shape. I was sent back to my room to wait for the final hour.

Everything ran like a fast-forwarded tape after that. People came in and out of the room; doctors, nurses, attendants and other entities and I didn’t notice how swift the time flew. I didn’t hear the loud ticking of the clock, nor saw the odd figures in a montage, neither felt that I was in trance. All I felt is still… just the excruciating pain in my chest.

The time has come. My private nurse came in and announced that he will be bringing me to the operating room for the surgical procedure, finally. While we passed by the alleys nearing the OR, my ears have decided to shut down temporarily. I see people talking to me but my ears refused to hear them. They gave a long list of instructions and asked tons of questions to test my coherence. I just read their lips and responded accordingly. I was stripped off my garments and worn the laboratory gown. I lied down the gurney and the nurse put on different cables in my body – ECG machine, electronic sphygmomanometer, electrodes in my chest and oxygen mask to regulate my breathing.

Finally, the doctor who will lead the surgical operation came in and discussed how the procedure will go. I suddenly pictured myself as the slaughtered victims in the movie series “Saw” where human internal organs were butchered like animals. I came back to my senses when he tapped at four points in my chest and belly illustrating where the incisions will be made. He assured me that everything will be alright. The anesthesiologist came next and discussed what I will feel (or the lack of it) after the general anesthesia will be administered. I suddenly pictured myself again as Hayden Christensen in the movie “Awake” where he got knocked down ensuring hypnosis and relaxation of muscles but the analgesic effect was not triggered making him helplessly feel and endure everything during the operation. I got back to my senses when she squeezed my hand assuring me that everything will be okay. Everyone disappeared in my sight and silence crawled upon me as I was left alone in the preparatory room. The sight of Christina Ricci’s movie “After Life” flashed back in my memory where she died and was embalmed at the mortuary but she strongly believes that she is still alive. I wonder if it happens to me, how can I prove to everyone that I did not die in this operation. I came back again to my senses when I remembered the two doctors assuring me that everything will be fine.

At exactly 8am, just like automated machines programmed to be powered-on at a scheduled time, everyone appeared back in my sight signaling the start of the operation. I was moved to the surgery room and they tied me up in the operating bed like as if I will undergo euthanasia. I asked myself “am I nervous?” and I answered back “no, I’m not. Actually, I’m having fun that’s why I was brought to the operating room, ain’t I?” and I smiled back at me through my reflections in the bulbs above and rolled my eyes. The doctors came in and started wearing their ambidextrous gloves and surgical masks. The anesthesiologist was the last to get in and squeezed my hand advising me that she is about to administer the general anesthesia. Before I could even reply, I felt like I was stripped off with all my energy, lost motor reflexes and… blacked out.

Err… what I thought was I blacked out but what I remembered seeing next is everything white. Everything around me is blinding white light fading in the middle of a spherical shape. I imagined being in a wide-mouthed tunnel but the lights are inverted. It was white all over and there was a black dot in the middle. I hear voices talking but I don’t see anyone, I don’t understand what they were talking about either. I wasn’t walking but I felt I was drifting towards the middle of the sphere. It seemed that I was inside a vacuum and I was being sucked up by the black hole. It was a very strong, irresistible force. There were other shades of white around me which appeared to be intangible, shadow-like shapes which I can’t hang on to resist the pulling force in the middle. I remember I have written something in the walls of white clouds but I can’t recall what these were. An absolute pressure suddenly heaved my body aloft and drawn myself at the core.

A tightening force was felt in my right arm suddenly, realizing that I was awakened by the BP cuff programmed to check my blood pressure every 10 minutes. I forced to open my eyes and tried to figure out where I was. My vision was blurry. I was like staring at the window pane and it was raining outside. I started to regain full visual acuity and I noticed I was in a cubicle where I think it is called Recovery Room. The BP cuff in my arm started to release its squeeze and heard the machine beeped continuously. I checked my four limbs of motor reflexes and consciousness, all intact. I heard footsteps approaching. It was the attending nurse. She seemed glad that I was already awake and congratulated me for the successful operation. She advised me that I was asleep for three hours. I was amazed. I still remember the last memory I had in the white spherical tunnel and it felt like this only happened in a few minutes, not hours. I wondered where I was in between.

I was finally delivered back to my room where my wife is waiting. I was advised that I will be asleep the whole day as inevitable effect of the anesthesia. I gladly closed my eyes once more. Hours passed. The ticking of the clock was calm and tranquil. Different forms of shapes and odd figures grew in my dreams as if I was in a montage of old photographs. I felt like I was in a trance. Everything is numb. Everything. And the pain in my chest has ended.