Selfshelf Update - part 1

Once upon a time there was quite a nice man who generally minded his own business unless he was minding some one else’s, a thing he does less now than heretofore. So there he was moving gently through life with just enough aggravation to keep him alert; when unexpectedly he found himself making an unscheduled visit to hospital where concern was translated into an extremely fast ambulance trip to another larger hospital, the Southern General no less, sadly not named for a participant in the American Civil War. Though being in Glasgow it could well have been.

This urgency came about, when with what can only be called malice aforethought, his gall bladder, which you may remember had already had one go at relocating; decided that life in the pinky dark was still not all it might be. Slowly but surely the gallbladder set about creating a feeling of deep unease as the first phase in its escape plan, and then paused to gauge the results. The quite nice man took a painkiller or two and tried to ignore the discomfort.

Not content with this response the gallbladder began a more positive course of action and attempted to push out the gallstone it had been secretly accreting  over time, causing the quite nice man considerable pain.

Unfortunately as is the way with such schemes not enough thought had been given to how this was going to be achieved, there being a considerable discrepancy between the size of the stone and the exit tube. Gallbladders have no concept of forward planning, it’s all instant gratification and me me me . Having blocked the only exit, it settled on becoming inflamed and infected, winning the accolade of ‘Pus filled sack’, with such an award it was sure that this would be a successful exit strategy.

Sadly it failed to appreciate the consequences of becoming to big for its designated body site, and the quite nice mans lung got in the way, and became compressed, thus seriously depleting the quite nice mans life support system. At first put down to a fit of pique on the part of the gallbladder, it was in fact just an unintended consequence.

The very clever and also nice Mr Smith, whose first name is Graeme, was going to excise the gallbladder until this event, but acting on the advice of the anaesthetist*, also a very nice man, postponed the operation until the chances of survival improved. The quite nice man’s even nicer wife concurred.

The gallbladder was given a very serious talking to by a variety of very serious anti-biotics which gathered round and in fact overwhelmed the gallbladder such that it slunk away and resumed its place, lurking with a very bad grace. Fortunately for the quite nice man his lung gradually expanded and breathing became easier.

The very clever and nice Mr Smith is going to have another go in early November. The slash and splash technique much favoured in the past will be dusted off. Due to the size of the gallbladder and content, less invasive methods are unlikely to be successful. The very clever and nice Mr Smith is looking forward to getting red to the elbows. The plan is to do this before the gallstone learns to crawl and talk.

It is hoped that the gallbladder doesn’t get wind of this and try for an earlier exit. It should perhaps be pointed out that gallbladders are ill prepared for life on the outside, and that this particular ones chance of survival is negligible.

It is hoped that its offspring, the gallstone, now an impressive 2.5 cm, can be saved for posterity and a place found for it in a cabinet of curiosities, or possibly mounted in a silver claw as a pendant, so the gallbladders efforts will not have been in vain.

* - name of anaesthetist not known.