I was apparently a lot sicker than I realized.
After discovering 12 days ago that I had gallstones, I spent a lot of time reading about possible treatments, but I slowly became convinced the emergency room doctor had been right. I needed surgery to remove my sickened gallbladder.
I was in enough discomfort — and eventually full-scale pain — that I didn’t work much last week. By Saturday morning, the worst pain of my life was back — and it was even worse this time.
I returned to the emergency room at St. Vincent’s Hospital in Birmingham Saturday morning. By that evening, I was admitted to the hospital with plans to get me go home late Sunday if surgery went well that morning. The official diagnosis was acute cholecystitis.

NOTEBOOK: If results confuse Paul’s aides, how competent are they?
Love & Hope — Episode 7:
Our inexplicable behavior ‘signals’ to the world who and what we are
I lost my way that night — and it seems I never found my way back
Anatomy of a dishonest political mailer from this week’s election
A president can be dictator if he claims it’s for national security
Lives change in moments of truth when we stop lying to ourselves