As I’ve alluded to in recent editions of the Duzett Gazette, I have suffered a violent and unforgivable betrayal by someone extremely close to me: my gallbladder.
Gallbladders, as I’m sure you’re all aware, are critical for our bodies and health and all that boring stuff, on account of all the bladding of galls that they do. When it comes to bladding galls, no other internal organ comes close.
But my doctor tells me that bladding galls actually isn’t that important, and that we can just yank the sucker right out. And when a doctor tells me that I can pay thousands of dollars for the privilege of having an internal organ permanently removed and the only downside is having diarrhea for the rest of my life, that’s a tempting proposal.
My only question is: Why, gallbladder? We’ve had so many great memories together, like that time I ate Tex-Mex exclusively for two years straight and you had to dump tons of bile, or that time I ate pizza for every meal during college and you had to dump tons of bile, or that time I ate every Reese’s product on the shelves over a year and you had to dump tons of… oh, I think I’m getting it now.
Maybe from the perspective of my gallbladder, I’ve been the one attacking it this whole time. Maybe I’m the bad guy here. Maybe I’m the President Snow of my body, and my gallbladder is Katniss Everdeen, and I keep signing her up for the Hunger Games.
But no; I’m pretty sure my gallbladder is just a traitorous jerk, and frankly she should have married Gale instead of Peeta.
The only good part is the pain. Six hours straight of being shot repeatedly in the abdomen by Katniss’s arrows, no position offering any relief… I read online that gallbladder attacks were more painful for many women than childbirth.
Now that’s what I’m talking about. I am definitely taking that to the bank on behalf of all men everywhere. Every time I hear, “Oh, labor is so painful, men will never understand,” I can say, “Eh, I’d give it a 7 out of 10.” Take that, fairer gender! I’m not scared of you!
(Please don’t tell my wife.)
But is the gift of excruciating pain worth the threat of expensive surgery, eternal diarrhea, and a diet of nothing but chicken, rice, and applesauce? It’s hard to say; I miss dumping toxic poison into my body and pretending it’s food, but I also love being smug.
I’ll make sure to keep you all updated, because I know if there’s one subject my readers love most, it’s internal organ malfunction. In the meantime, may we all enjoy a healthy bladding upon every one of our galls.
