Instead I’ll be cozy in my bed tomorrow morning. Granted, it’s supposed to be in the upper 30’s
with a slight chance of sprinkles so I’m not crying, but the weather isn't the
reason I won’t be running.
If you remember my after the half marathon post from April I
talked about how I wound up at the emergency room two nights later with severe
upper abdominal pain. At the time we
thought it was dehydration and I just plain over did it. Lesson learned I thought. Not quite.
Over the summer I had another episode, which I again chalked up to
dehydration, it being 99 plus degrees and humid around here. The pain returned again this fall and was
much more frequently, there have been a few weeks where I had an episode every day. I talked about it with my doctor during my
annual checkup and she felt it was a musculoskeletal issue and suggested PT to
strengthen my upper abdominals. Off I
went to PT and for a few weeks I thought it was really helping. But three Thursdays ago, I had a doozy of an
attack, equal to that night in April, at work.
When you turn to your husband and tell him that the pain you’re
experiencing is worse than childbirth, you know you’re in some serious pain. I ended up at my primary’s office instead of
the ER because I wanted answers, not just treatment of the immediate situation. What followed was a series of blood tests,
all of which were normal (as they were in April) and then this past Thursday,
an upper abdominal ultrasound which revealed that I have gallstones.
Now in the realm of things that could be wrong with me,
things could be much worse. It turns out there’s a family history here, so that
fact that I don’t meet the classic profile gets trumped by plain old genetics. At this point, I've been referred to a
gastroenterologist to further assess the situation and decide on treatment. In the meantime, I’m really watching what I
eat and am laying off the running until the everything is taken care of. While exercise is actually good for me, I
think when I run, the stones shift around and it triggers an attack (hey, I am
a doctor, so I’m allowed a little self diagnosis, aren't I?).
So, I’ll enjoy my extra hour of sleep tomorrow and stay cozy
warm under the blankets while all of the runners are lining up at the starting
line. In spite of the situation that
brought me here, I’m not feeling bad one bit about missing out on the
race. There’s always next year!
