Fielder's Choice

The pain started on a recent Sunday night. I kind of rubbed it off as acid reflux, a common issue in my every-day world.

I got some relief Monday morning from my local doctor, but it stuck with me all day Monday, and eased up Monday night and Tuesday.

Tuesday night and Wednesday morning, it returned and was a whole lot worse.

Pam finally convinced me, and I was in anxious agreement, to go to the emergency room at Baptist Memorial Hospital North Mississippi in Oxford. I had been in contact with my gastroenterologist’s office in Oxford.

“Barry, if you’re having unbearable pain, go to the emergency room,” the nurse said.

I received immediate attention upon arrival. Next came an ultrasound, a chest X-ray, an EKG and a CT scan. A shadow from the ultrasound led to the CT scan, which pinpointed the dangerous issue.

I recall the emergency room doctor walking in and describing a gall stone the diameter of a quarter. It was causing all sorts of havoc.

“Mr. Burleson, we need to do surgery,” he said.

“Are you talking about tomorrow or next week?” I asked.

“No, sir,” he said. “Right now.”

The surgeon visited next. She told Pam that I had gotten to the emergency room in the nick of time. My gall bladder was gangrene, a bile duct was obstructed and infection was in jeopardy of reaching my blood stream and liver.

Next thing I know I was being prepped for surgery, and, of course, I don’t recall anything about the next few hours. The surgery itself lasted about two hours, according to my wife, who waited and waited and received text after text checking on me. Thank you!

I awoke sometime Wednesday evening in my hospital room with four incisions. I recall hearing my wife talking to our son Andy. He was traveling from his home in Tupelo to ours in Holly Springs to feed and walk our dog and pick up some clothes and other items for us to bring to the hospital.

I was in a daze and in constant pain, despite the necessary meds ­ no way to get comfortable. I was hungry, too. I ate one sandwich and asked for another.

Late that night I think I dozed off to sleep for about an hour and then woke up in enormous pain. I got out of bed, crying and shouting, and also experiencing shortness of breath with the pain. Pam buzzed the nurses’ station, and they came running.

Stronger meds did the work of giving me relief.

Originally, I thought I might go home Thursday. But the surgeon visited that morning and said one more day. She wanted an MRI for a good look ­ making sure all organs and tissues were OK. Also, my bilirubin level was too high.

“What do you think?’ she asked.

“You’re the expert,” I said. “I will take your advice.” The MRI was extremely uncomfortable, lying flat on my back and taking deep breaths. It took about 20 minutes but seemed like 50.

I was able to relax a little more that afternoon and get up and walk more, too. A Friday release was looking good.

(To be continued.)