Our phone rang immediately after last Shabbos, and when I went to
screen the call see who it was, I saw my mother’s cell phone number on the caller i.d. But when I answered, it was my father on the line, which was unusual (I usually call him, and on their land line). He told me that, shockingly, my mother was in the hospital (what?!), as she had had a gallstone which ended up in her pancreas and caused pancreatitis (yeah, I hadn’t ever heard of that before, but it’s a thing), and so she had been admitted to the hospital, and they were planning on keeping her until Tuesday.
Tuesday. That was like, a five day stay. That sounded serious to me. And scary. This is my mother. Who is obviously supposed to be immortal and immune to all physical ailments.
Thank G-d, everything was okay. My husband assured me that he’s seen plenty of pancreatitis which resolves very nicely (one of the perks of being married to a doctor, I guess. They know stuff about things like pancreatitis). My mother had her gallbladder out yesterday, and she’s recovering nicely, Thank G-d, may she continue to do so.
I was speaking with her yesterday evening, and she mentioned how much better she felt without her gallbladder, and how she realized now that she’d been feeling lousy for a little while, but just hadn’t realized it. She had just gotten used to it. And I had a flash of insight: