The One About What Your Gall Bladder Actually Does

Category: weekleez

The One About What the Gall Bladder Actually Does

October 15, 2004

hi kids,

since i’ve had my gall bladder cut off and jerked through my belly button i’ve had several people ask me what exactly the gall bladder did in the first place. my first response is usually something like, “um, i think it’s some kind of Pain Button that gets pressed when you eat things like apples and ethnic food after 7pm.” and my second response is something like, “not really! it’s actually this thing that just sits around and whines a lot. like andy rooney.”

so then i read up on it and then internet (because it’s not like one of my doctors was going to tell me what the hell the gall bladder does, was doing, or was not doing correctly. oh heaven forbid you doctors actually explain something to the person you’re cutting on. nay, they probably don’t have a brain so treat them as such. instead, explain everything to the other people standing around the person you’re going to cut on, better yet, totally drug the shemp and then take the other people OUT OF THE ROOM and talk about the important things like, i dunno, gall bladders.)

now, the best i can figure (remember, i have no brain) is that the gall bladder holds the bile that the liver makes. and then it sends the bile to the stomach. bile breaks down fats. neat huh?
do you know what bile is? do you? because i don’t think you do. bile is made in the liver right? and the liver does what? it cleans the blood, right? rids it of toxins (like booze and dead blood cells. oh god, i said dead blood cells. i’m gonna be sick. no kidding, talking about dead blood cells makes me feel woozy. i think..i’m gonna pass out. deep breaths.) so anyway bile goes to the digestive parts to help with the breaking down of things so that you can get rid of the waste. and by get rid of the waste i mean poop.

poop!

so i guess the gall bladder just holds bile until you eat something and start the whole digestion thing.

so what does it mean for those of us that have had our gall bladders ripped from our bodies?

i have no idea. the doctor(s) didn’t tell me.

but you know, all of this biological science flim-flam (flim-flam!) is peripheral and has nothing to do with the actual importance/duty of the gall bladder which is…luck.

that’s right, the gall bladder is actually this greenish-bluish organ in your body that produces luck. some people have good luck, and that means their gall bladder is working just fine, thank you. some people have regular luck, they win some they lose some, and their gall bladder works fine too, but sometimes it’s lazy. some people have bad luck. these are the shemps who’ve had their gall bladders taken out because their lazy, no good gall bladder got all sick and stupid and couldn’t handle the whole Luck Management thing.

so now? now i have bad luck. what? what do you mean what do i mean? oh. you want examples of my newfound bad luck? are you sure you’ve got time to hear all this?
alright. you asked for it.

five hours after the surgery the hospital sent me home. perhaps i’ve mentioned before how they gave me no pain killah after the surgery?
so i get to mom and dad’s house, and i sit down in this reclining chair. mom and dad are all, “do you need anything?” and i’m all, “yeah, heroine.” and they’re all, “ha ha. we’re gonna go outside and have a beer, okay?” and i’m all, “kill me, please?”

so they go outside.

so i’m sitting there, just home from the hospital, just been cut on, just in fresh pain, and i put my foot up on the foot stool/ottoman/whatever and i look up.
and there.
slowly repelling down from the rafter.
is a spider.
and it’s coming down.
down.

down.

down.

right at my head.

“shit.”

down.

down.

“shit! shit!”

down.

“shitter shit!”

down.

it’s now 12 inches away from my head.
so what do i do? it’s not like i’m spry or anything. i’ve got cuts in my tummy, it takes me a full minute to get out of a chair, i can’t jump out of the chair. hell, i can’t even slide down the chair. i’m trapped! mom and dad can’t hear my screams of horror! no one is going to save me from the spider! what can i do?!

down.

down.

so i did the only logical thing. i blew at it.
ha ha! i win! i…shit! HELP! hoooo! hooo!

yes. i’m such a genius. not only did my blowing the spider (shut up) not have the disired effects of either destroying the spider with my Super Destructo Breath of Woe or sending the spider on a different course, nay, i merely singlehandedly (er, singlebreathedly) set in motion my own sick and twisted The Pit and the Pendulum senario starring me as the heretic, the spider as the pendulum, and the hole where my gall bladder used to be as the Inquisition.

yay.

go me.

so what did i do? did i let the spider land on me as it swung back and forth ever closer to landing on me and biting me and injecting me with rancid spider venom juice?
no way.
i jumped outta that chair, screaming in pain, knowing that my guts were pouring out of my belly button, grabbing a magazine from the basket by the fireplace, knocking the spider to the floor, and bashing the holy shit out of that spider, then i carefully eased back into the chair and groaned.

it was then that mom came in from outside.

“hi honey, can i get you…why are you sweating? are you hot? you’re not running a fever are you?”

“if only i had a fever.”

“what? oh here. you dropped your magazine.”

“yeah. i guess i did.”

“you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“oh sure.”

the next evening:

i’m sitting in Dad’s Recliner. you know you’re sick when you’re allowed to sit in Dad’s Recliner. so i’m sitting. and we’re all playing video games (mom, dad, jimmy, me) and from across the room my Eagle Eyes detect a vicious enemy in the form of a roach. keep in mind it’s across the room. like 20 feet. i point at it and i’m going to say, “dad, quick! get the spray. i see a roach.”
but i point and as soon i do the roach flies. mom and jimmy look at the direction that i’m pointing in but they don’t see anything because the roach is midflight.
“what.” mom says.

but the roach. is flying.
directly at me.

“AAAAAAIIIEEEEEEE! AIEEEEEEE! AIEEEEEEEEEEEE!” i scream and point. i can’t jump out of the chair, i’m in the giant, soft, Dad’s Recliner plus, stomach wounds!

“what!? what is it?!” dad shouts.
“you sound like a monkey.” says jimmy.

i manage to deflect the bastard roach with my power puff girls pillow. “a roach! it’s a roach! kill it! kill it!”

finally dad sees the roach and kills it. “why didn’t you just say ‘roach’ instead of shrieking like a monkey?” asks dad.
“i tried but…”
“it was like a pissed chimpanzee!” jimmy laughs.
then they all laugh because the sound that came out of my throat was so totally primal.
“you guys! stop laughing! i tried to point and say roach but then damn thing flew straight at my head! stop! laughing! i hate you! all of you!”

night after that:

i’m walking around the living room, doing my “laps”, ‘cos the nurse said i should walk a lot. so i’m walking, and dad and jimmy are playing video games. i fell something hit the back of my head and land on my shoulder. i can’t see it but i know exactly what the hell it is. “son. of. a. BITCH!” i yell and shake and dance, flailing my arms about.

“what’s the matter?”
“what are you doing?”

“BAAAAH! IT’S ANOTHER GODDAMNED ROACH. ON ME! KILL IT! KILL IT! DIE! DIE! DIE!”

after the Horrible Bug Trifecta the bad luck tapered off. or so i thought. however, it was in fact saving itself up for a Grande Finale.

a week later:

i come home from a wednesday night Bible study and i let the cat in ‘cos it was dark and she comes in at night. well, she used to anyway.
the cat went straight to her food bowl and ate her leftover friskies or whiskas or whatever while i boiled water to make myself a wonderful cup of soothing, relaxing, hot tea.

minutes later the water is boiling and i lift the pot off the burner to pour the water into a cup with my tea bag in it. as i lift the pot i hear the cat (who is now in my room, specifically she’s on my dresser ‘cos she likes to be on the corner of the dresser and if i don’t leave that space empty she gets up there anc knocks everything off the dresser and onto the floor and i have no bleeding idea why she does that.) scream.

there i am holding boiling water in mid air and the cat…screams.

“what the…?” i pour the water into the cup figuring that i’ll solve the Mystery of the Screaming Cat as my tea steeps. as i walk to the room i see the cat is now heaving and hurling puke from the top of my dresser to the carpet on the floor below. “holy shit! why, what?? oh god…”

i’ve poisoned my cat. oh god. i forgot. kris sprayed for bugs inside and outside the house and i forgot and i didn’t wash her food bowl or her water bowl and now she’s eaten and drank poison and oh god i’ve killed her and i’m the worst cat owner person in the world! poor Toonces. i killed my cat. i’m going to hell.

“oh Toonce, i’m sorry.”

she looked over at me, and there, sitting next to her are my car keys. she’s got this pathetic line of drool hanging out of her mouth and she opens her mouth and yarks and this watery pool of sick comes out and blam, right on my keys.

“oh god. gross. okay yeah, i deserve it.”

i finally pick her up and throw her outside because
1. no more puke in the house and
2. she’s not dying in here

oh sure it sounds insensitive but really, i wasn’t sure if there was going to be a bout of diarrhea next.
poor kitty.

so i go and get a grocery bag and all the paper towels i own and cleaned up the sick on the dresser and rinse off my car keys. then i look at the carpet to assess the best way to clean it. i get down on my knees and ew, there are three (3) gigantic piles of puke. these piles, god, they are huge and…chunky? what the? the first pile is all *gag* meat? and…fur? what the? the second pile is…oh my god, organs. that f*cking cat. ew what’s the third- *gag* intestines.

it was amazing how fast my demeanor changed. in .025 seconds i went from Oh Sweet Jesus I killed My Poor Cat to Just Wait Til I Get My Hands On You, You Are A Dead Cat, Yeah, You Think Puking This Up Was Bad? You’ll Wish You Were Puking When I Get Done With You.

that damn cat had eaten something huge. it wasn’t just a mouse or a rat. and? she must’ve eaten it right before i got home ‘cos nothing had been digested yet. it was so gross. and bloody and there it was, seeping into my carpet.
of course the bitch would puke in the only room with carpet. it couldn’t have been on the linoleum or the hardwood. nay nay.

i quickly cleaned up the piles and tossed it in the garbage bin outside. then i poured clorox cleaner on the red spots, not caring if it turned the carpet white or burned a hole right through to the wood. just as long as there wasn’t red stains and puke smell, i didn’t care.

i then gave the cat new food and water outside because i figured after puking all that up she’d probably be hungry. she wanted back inside and kept meowing at the door. but i wouldn’t let her in because i know that all she really wanted was to check out her carrion vomit. which wasn’t there anymore anyway.

an hour later i go back to my room to get ready for bed. my nerves are shot, the tea had 0 calming affect on me. as i’m putting on my jammies i hear the cat outside eating her food. but it’s like she’s crunching maniacally. “damn. what’s that all about?” so i turn on the outside light and pull back the curtain and there, at my back door, eating my cat food, is a full grown, nasty-ass ‘possum. “dammit! no!”

so i throw open the door and the ‘possum looks at me. it’s all, “what up bitch?”
damn tough inner-city ‘possums and their damn attitude.

“BLAHHBABBABABALBALAAAAA!” i yell.

it fled. in horror.

the cat leaps out of nowhere to come inside, determined to check out her vomit.
“no!” i yell and snatch her out of midair. i toss her back out and slam the door.

four hours later i manage to fall asleep.

so as far as i can tell, the gall bladder is your internal good luck charm.

shit.

next week’s epitomb: what the future holds for Bionic Gall Bladder Luck Management Systems (BGBLMS)

jaimie” sans gall bladder” pickle

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