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The original was posted on /r/tifu by /u/opelemmescoochbyya on 2025-10-26 02:46:51+00:00.
Obligatory “this didn’t happen today” but it was recent!
About six months ago, I had a baby. Everything was fine and wonderful until I had my first gallbladder attack. I genuinely thought I had broken something in my spine or was having a heart attack or both. My husband had taken the “night shift” with the baby so he was awake and on the couch. I nearly had to crawl to him to ask him what he thought might be wrong. He assumed maybe I had popped a rib out of place (because that’s something that happens to me a lot tbh), or a panic attack. When the pain didn’t subside, he called his mom to sit in our house with the baby and our oldest. It was like 2 am and we definitely didn’t want to take our kids to the ER with us. I love his mom, she was over at our house minutes later.
We go to the ER and I explain what’s going on. They do all their fancy tests and tell me I have a gallstone lodged in a duct. Neat. They give me some pain meds and schedule a consultation with a surgeon.
He’s a cool dude, tells me that I’m young and healthy and could potentially never have an issue again. Says that, while he enjoys doing surgery, he doesn’t want to just take my money for something that could potentially never be an issue. Tells me to go to the ER if I experience another attack that lasts longer than an hour, gives me a blue raspberry sucker, and sends me on my way.
Time passes and I have a couple more small attacks, all lasting less than an hour. I assume it’s no big deal.
Then the big one happens. My husband comes home from his night shift to find me writhing on the floor in pain. I cannot stand up so he just sits on the ground and holds me until it passes. This attack lasts less than an hour so I refuse when he says we need to go to the hospital. I have declared that I am fine. I pop a Tylenol and go to bed. The next morning, I feel funky. Exhausted. Assuming it’s just from not getting a lot of sleep, I chug my usual energy drink, take more Tylenol, curl up with my baby (he’s in his bassinet next to my comfy chair, we still practice safe sleep!) and take a little nap. The day progresses normally and everything is chill. The NEXT day, I am even more exhausted. I am having a hard time standing up again due to a dull ache but nothing unmanageable. My husband keeps doing his “if you need me to stay home from work, I will” thing but I insist I’m fine.
He calls my mom. He told my MOTHER ON ME.
She takes me to urgent care. They say I have keytones in my urine and some signs of dehydration but there’s not much they can do. Whatever. They did not care, nor was my issue urgent. They tell me to go on a clear liquid diet for a few days. I call my husband, let him know what’s up. Eat some chicken broth. Vibes.
Next day, I am feeling like hot deep fried garbage. Still tell my husband to go to work. He calls his mom to come check on me. She does, and she brings food because she is lovely. I’m starving because chicken broth is fully not enough. I eat very slowly and throw it all up less than five minutes later.
My mother in law is a lovely woman. Genuinely one of the best people in the world. But I’m a little scared of her (in a good way if that makes sense). She grabs me by the arm and tells me we are going back to the emergency room. I don’t argue. Again, I am frightened.
I go in, she gives them the spiel then goes outside because she has my baby and no one wants him exposed to germs. I give a urine sample, they take my blood pressure, all that jazz. In the time it takes them to do that, I turn yellow. Like Simpsons yellow. They admit me to a room and start pushing fluids. I am now in the most pain I have ever been in in my entire life. I cannot stop shaking and throwing up bile. It’s gross. Someone must’ve called my husband because he showed up and sat with me. Tests come back and I have a severe UTI and kidney infection along with being dehydrated. More fluids. I am once again very yellow. They all have to tell me how yellow I am. They think it’s both funny and terrifying. I have a CT scan, two ultrasounds, and blood work. On top of my infections, my gallstone is now fully blocking my bile duct and has sent my liver and pancreas into overdrive. They also tell me that if I had waited another day to come in, I’d probably be dying (lol). They give me morphine. It’s nice.
The surgeon that can remove my gallbladder though? He’s in Africa.
So they start calling every hospital around and FINALLY find one two hours away that is willing to accept me. They send my husband home to pack bags for us. We’re going to be gone for awhile. My husband is the best. He gets me completely packed for five days with different outfit options so I can feel cute or comfy, a decent selection of makeup, hair care (he forgot conditioner but he is forgiven), and the book I’m currently reading. He also packs for both babies to stay at his parents house while we’re gone and does an amazing job. Life is so much better when you don’t marry a loser. For panic packing, he did so good. I just wanna kiss his forehead thinking about it again.
ANYWAY we spend five days in the other hospital, I get my ducts scoped and turned into a Jenna Marbles impressionist coming out of anesthesia the first time, then cry after my actual removal surgery because I forgot to ask for a tummy tuck when I was knocked out.
Lifes good now. I’m down a useless organ and am awaiting a terrifyingly large medical bill but 🤷🏻♀️. I didn’t die.
TLDR: TIFU by ignoring my gallbladder screaming for help, almost dying, but not!