The Moses Bladder

Gall bladders have been on my mind lately. Mostly because I wanted mine out and nobody would take it out. I’m too fat I think for them to feel good about burying a scalpel in me. They might not find it again. Colons have been on my mind too. But colons are boring. They just lay there and do whatever it is they do. Sometimes they’re happy, sometimes they’re grumpy, but mostly, they are just there. Someone told me I needed to part with some colon. Two others said no I don’t.
But the Gall Bladder, that’s an entirely different story. Some people said it was bad, others said probably not. Now let’s think about this. What is a gall bladder? It’s a little bag that squishes nasty yellow-green stuff into your colon. Sometimes they get stones in them and clog up. No one has volunteered to create roto-rooter for the gall bladder. Just the name of the thing is weird. Gall from the French Charles De Gaul maybe? Or just from Golly. Maybe it comes from the Gaul of it all because how dare it get stones in it. Chickens eat stones, I don’t. Then there is Bladder from, the English translation of “the Bladder”. There are water bladders, wine bladders, bladder bladders, and gall bladders. Why a bladder, because you can wring it out for the last drop? I saw Moses do that in the Ten Commandments the other day. Nothing was coming out. Maybe he had water bladder stones. Maybe that’s where he got the idea to pull water from a stone. So this is Moses’ fault. Everything eventually gets back to that.
So in the end this was a religious thing. Surgeons are afraid to remove the gall bladder because the ACLU (who won’t defend Moses and his tablets in the court house, but will say he has the right to be heard from but removing a gall bladder will cause people to think Biblically) will sue the surgeon’s because the surgeons want to separate a gall bladder from a person’s state, no matter how poor that state has become.
So I went in for the test on Friday to look at, what else, my stomach, since my gall bladder hurt. I turned to the Surgeon and said when you don’t find anything wrong with my stomach take my gall bladder out. He agreed, because there is money involved. But that’s when the paper work started. I had to have carpel tunnel surgery from all the signing, then they went ahead and took the gall bladder out. Now mind you, I was thinking Biblically, but I didn’t say it to anyone, so that doesn’t count. When the bladder thingy was out, of course we found out it didn’t squish as good as it used to. In fact I’d managed to scar the thing up. That happens when you pick your gall bladder I guess. Of course when I woke up I was in pain. But I could tell immediately that my 2 year battle was over.
By the time the nurses got through walking me up and down the hall like a puppy I had used so many muscles that I never knew existed trying to move around without scrapping off the little tapes on my incisions, that I was actually sorer from the exercise than the little cuts. So far no little globs of fat or scalpels have fallen out of the holes, and I don’t miss my gall bladder at all. I know we’ve been together for awhile now, but frankly I wouldn’t even friend it on Face Book.
I’ve known people who brought their gall bladders home in a little jar with them. I didn’t want mine. What am I going to do with it, wring it out to see if Moses is in there? No one said anything about stones either, so I’m not a chicken. So now I’m a bladderless, Colon owning, non-chicken, who did not eat the stone tablets when Moses tossed them. Sheesh this is as bad as turning 20…now I have to define myself all over again. There’s hope Obama, I might become a socialist after all! You can thank my diseased gall bladder the next time you speak to Congress.