i have to wake up early for my surgery in the morning and shower beforehand as per instructed AND i cant eat OR drink water after midnight so im gonna be thirsty af until i wake up lol. idk im just like AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. its not that bad but im going over everything in my head to prepare and im getting anxiety
The funniest thing about being ill in the hospital after major surgery and drifting in and out of coherence while being a murderbot nerd is having to consistently stop myself from responding to "how are you feeling?" With a Performance Reliability Rating Percentage
Hey everybody just thought I'd update you all on the situation. I am going to have surgery. I'm getting my gallbladder removed, and I'll be out of it for a while.
Just wanted to let everyone know, I just hope it goes well.
I made this at the beginning of August. I had an emergency gallbladder removal surgery at the beginning of August. I’m just about fully recovered now and starting to get back to my usual routines.
I teased Wes having his gallbladder out in Ch. 25. So without further ado, here’s the story.
Read on AO3 here or below the cut.
@whumpril
He hasn’t slept in three days.
Just crawls into bed to toss and turn for a while before giving up.
It’s not even nightmares or insomnia or any of the usual reasons that he can’t sleep.
He’s been sick all week. A low-grade fever paired with nausea and vomiting, alternating with diarrhea.
His dad is talking about an run to urgent care if it doesn’t improve soon but thankfully, he’s been able to keep down enough food and fluids to avoid it so far.
But honestly, none of that is really what’s bothering him.
His stomach hurts.
Tight, pulsing pain just below his ribs on the right side.
He’s done his best to ignore it.
Miss Edwin and his foster parents always told him not to be such a baby; that kids get stomachaches and its usually because they ate too much or ate something they shouldn’t have.
Eating too much is an unlikely answer for someone who all too often wasn’t given anything to eat at all.
Eating something bad was more possible.
It wasn’t uncommon for lazy foster parents to bring day old gas station food home for him when (if) they remembered there wasn’t food in the house.
He’d tried to explain that it wasn’t a stomachache.
That he knew what food poisoning felt like and he didn’t overeat.
That had usually led to him being accused of trying to act like he was starving to try to get his foster parents in trouble.
So he’d learned not to say anything.
It hasn’t happened for a while; something that he’d attributed to the fact that he doesn’t have to go without food or risk eating something questionable since he’s been with Mr. Mitchell.
But it’s started up again this week and it’s not going away.
At first, he’d associated it with whatever stomach bug he’d figured he’d picked up.
But this time, something is definitely wrong.
Tonight, the longer he’s laid here, staring at the ceiling and willing sleep to just take him, the more it’s started to hurt and the colder he’s started to feel.
Finally, he crawls out of bed, making his way as quietly as possible to the bathroom in search of the thermometer.
Sits on the toilet seat, shivering while he turns it on and waits for it to calibrate.
Runs it across his forehead.
103.1
Yeah, that’s probably not good.
It’s hard to straighten up and he almost considers crawling to his dad’s room but his ego wins out and he limps across the hall, hand pressed against his side, to knock on the door.
There’s no answer at first and he considers going back to bed, trying to sleep a little bit longer and waiting until the sun is up to bother his dad.
Another flash of pain spreads through him and he drops to his knees.
Knocks again.
“Dad?” He calls weakly, barely even able to hear himself.
His stomach twists but he can’t even begin to stagger to his feet, to try to get to the bathroom, so he just throws up all over himself right there in the hallway.
He wakes to the sound of someone throwing up.
Ruefully thinks for a moment that this stomach flu is kicking Wes’s ass and it’s definitely time to take him to urgent care first thing in the morning.
Then he realizes that the sound is a lot closer than the bathroom down the hall.
He doesn’t even bother with his robe as he stumbles out of bed and to the door.
Wes is doubled over in the hallway, his legs covered in vomit.
“Oh kiddo.” He says softly, kneeling in front of him and then recoiling as he feels the heat coming off of him.
“It hurts.” Wes whimpers, arms curled around his stomach in a way that sends alarm bells ringing through him.
But not as much as the tears in his eyes.
He hates it but Wes has the highest pain tolerance of anyone he’s ever met.
If the pain is enough to bring tears to his eyes, something is wrong.
“Hang on, bud.” He whispers, hurrying over to drag pants on over his boxers, shove his feet into sandals and his phone and wallet into pockets before returning and lifting his son into his arms.
He’s getting harder to carry but he’s still lighter than any seventeen year old has any right to be but he’s grateful for the moment because he’s not sure the kid is up for walking.
A brief stop by the door to grab his keys and he’s running out to his truck.
Wes has really got to stop doing this to him.
One thing about arriving at the Emergency Room with a teen who’s hot enough to boil an egg on his forehead and nearly unresponsive with pain is that there’s no waiting.
Wes is rushed directly into a bay and Sean is told they’ll find him when they have news.
And that’s when the waiting begins.
At least for him.
After nearly two hours where the only news he gets come in tandem with requests to approve imaging and tests, they tell him his son needs surgery.
His gallbladder is badly obstructed and has become dangerously inflamed as a result.
They need to remove it.
Yes, Wes can manage just fine without a gallbladder.
He signs the forms robotically and then collapses back into his chair.
Only realizes that he hasn’t called anyone when his sister comes downstairs.
She’d been shocked and horrified to see her nephew being wheeled into her CT but it had taken her a minute to get away.
She can’t stay long but does her best to reassure him and then calls Grant to come sit with him before heading back to work.
It’s not a long surgery.
Grant hasn’t been there more than thirty minutes before a surgeon is coming out, telling them both that Wes had done very well.
That his gallbladder has been removed and he’ll be treated with antibiotics to clear the remainder of the infection.
Then he asks if Wes has had a lot of stomach aches.
Because while he’ll need pathology to say for sure, he’s pretty confident that Wes has been dealing with gallstones for several years at least.
When Sean explains that Wes is a former foster kid, one for whom malnutrition has been a problem in the past, he nods.
“That would definitely increase the likelihood of them forming.” He agrees. “And I would guess that foster parents who couldn’t be bothered to properly feed him probably didn’t respond positively when he told them his stomach was hurting.”
Sean can tell you right now that the man is correct.
Feels an all too familiar sense of rage toward the social worker who was no doubt as dismissive if not more so than any of his so-called parents.
A sense of hurt that Wes hadn’t felt like he could tell him about it.
“He’s in recovery now, could wake up anytime if you’d like to sit with him.” The doctor says, reading the sea of emotions on Sean’s face.
He glances over at Grant.
“Go.” His best friend says. “I’ll make a run by your place, get both of you some things and circle back around.”
“Don’t forget-”
“I’ll make sure I grab Tito.” His friend interrupts. “Give a guy some credit.”
He can’t help but chuckle.
Wes has been let down in the past.
A lot.
But he has people now.
The trick is just helping him remember that.
It’s three days before they have a chance to talk.
Wes is home, still on oral antibiotics, but resting in his own bed and already looking miles better.
He swears up and down that he hasn’t kept any stomach pain from Sean, that it hasn’t happened since Sean had taken him in.
Sean decides to believe him, letting the topic die with one last reminder that he’s here no matter what.
That Wes is important to him and nothing is too small to bother him with.
Wes rolls his eyes, responding with his usual teenage smartass but the shy smile that he gives when he thinks Sean isn’t looking anymore tells him everything he needs to know.
Ugh. Just found out that I need to check in for my gallbladder removal surgery at 5:30 am. And it takes a while to get there. Pretty sure this is going to be another one where it's easier to stay up that late than get up that early.
hi!! <3 it went alright! i have to stay for a few days in the hospital though. i'm high risk for infection and have to have another smaller procedure done to remove the rest of the stones in my duct. (my body can never cooperate lmao). 🫠 and i'm in a lot of pain, but that was to be expected. i am just beyond thankful to have kind doctors that will give me any pain medication i need to feel better. :,) recovery is no joke lol. i'm sleeping while sitting partially up on my back rn cause any other position is horrendous. 😭
