Gall Bladder

This day is the first anniversary of the day my gall bladder nearly blew up in my face.

It was a Sunday night, about 19:30 or so. I was sitting alone, watching TV, when a muscle cramp across my abdomen flared up without warning.

And then it persisted. All night long.

They had to take me down to the hospital, in the end, because of the pain. In the end, somebody diagnosed that it might have been an inflammation of the gall bladder brought about by gallstones. Thus dates were set for scans and appointments made for preops, and ultimately for the op itself - which took place this year, on 2013 11 06. The period known as The Great Hiatus.

A hiatus which very nearly could have become a permanent one.

And so, on this anniversary, I raise a glass in toast to my gall bladder. To absent friends. It very nearly could have become the death of me - and, in fact, my enforced prolonged absence from public life felt like one final act of spite from the stones - but it did not kill me; so, at least for now, I am here - at least, at the time of typing this, which I do in advance of the day itself, on 2013 11 18, just after midnight.

I post this now, in an effort to draw the mythical double line beneath this whole affair. Time to move on, now, and look forward to my life, however long it is.

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"And if we have unearned luck, now to scape the serpent's tongue, we will make amends ere long. Else the Puck a liar call ..."

So speak.