"I'm not asleep yet. Keep the camera away" I remember saying that a couple of times after they started the Demerol into the intravenous needle stuck in my right hand. If there is any position likely to leave you feeling more vulnerable than lying on your side with your arse flapping between the inadequate cover provided by a hospital gown I have yet to encounter it, but it's made all the worse as you watch them position a screen next to your head which beeps reassuringly in time with your heart beat, as it displays for all the world to see the state of one's colon, a formerly very private place.
"I'm not asleep yet. Keep the camera away!" They stuck a clip on my finger to make sure I was still alive while they amused themselves poking around, fascinated by my rear end and it's contents. Dr Jones expressed no surprise when I told him I had been squirting bright fluorescent green liquid for lo these many hours. These preparations were taking forever and I wished they'd get a move on and start the inspection, as I heard them droning on, chatting inconsequentially in the background. "God." I thought. "Next thing I'll see the tunnel to the white light. They seem to be taking my death very calmly." Then I felt a smooth metallic wiggle in a place where straight men like me plan to never ever feel anything.
"You're back!" Doctor Jones called out cheerfully, not in the least guilty to be caught in flagrante delicto retrieving a camera from inside a grown man's backside. I could feel the slippery pen sliding out and I was immediately ready, there and then to get back to my normal routine well away from this hellish place. "Lie there and pretend to be a patient" Nurse Rebecca said sternly.
"No polyps," said the good doctor. And with those magical words not only did I get a clean bill of health (the best bill of all as pointed out by Heinz and Frenchie) but I also got a ham on brown bread sandwich and two strong black cups of coffee. I'm here to tell you hospital food is delicious if you are in the right frame of mind to enjoy it. And I most certainly was. I think I shall sleep for twelve hours straight.
11 comments:
Conch:
I am without words. My mind is still conjuring up images of this procedure. Suffice to say that it's great you are in good health
bob
bobskoot: wet coast scootin
Did they give you a souvenir photo to take home with you? For that price they should have. Good to hear you are in good health!
They showed me a picture of each end of my colon. One end bore a startling resemblance to Jack Riepe but the other didn't. I left my trusty Canon at home for these shenanigans. A picture of me in the bathroom clutching my robe in one hand and IV in the other with me cursing up a blue streak would doubtless have got this blog flagged.
Did you tell him he was going boldly where no man had gone before?
Did you ask him if he could buy you a drink and you could just get to know him before they started?
Did you ask him to tell your wife after a complete search that your head wasn't up there?
-Peace
Should I say I'm glad 'everything came out okay'?
Actually I am quite impressed. Did you post this just minutes after the procedure was over? I know, after I had one, that I was groggy for 2 days. People tell me they had conversations with me that I did'nt remember. Makes me worry about what I might have said.
Glad you are okay. Really like your blog.
I'd have been bloody annoyed had he forgotten anything up there. Apparently I recovered much faster than many people, even though I don't think I could have gone to work tonight, as I am a little spacey, dispatching with less than your full faculties is a bit dicey. I haven't ridden the Bonneville either, much though I'd have liked to! I'm glad you like the blog but because it is my diary I fear some days it veers a little too close to the personal. Tomorrow the blog and I should be back to normal with a look at Wong Song Alley.
I was thinking about offering some smart ass comment. No pun intended. There's just nothing funny about this. You have my sincere empathy. The things we do in the pursuit of health, eh?
Dear Sir:
There is no such thing as bad publicity.
Fondest regards,
Jack Riepe
Twisted Roads
Yee hah, Scooter is back!
PS. Apropos your first paragraph. Unless you get fitted with a uterus I'm guessing you'll probably remain oblivious of a more vulnerable position in medicine.
I feel fortunate. On Alternet there is a story of a ten thousand dollar hospital admission. A man got dehydrated and fainted in public. He spent the night at the hospital. The total bill was ten grand. His insurance paid 2500 as did he, plus 1500 dollars for the ambulance which the insurance company denied. I would have fought them on that. And so it goes. None of us are immune from these bankruptcy inducing disasters.Single payer please.
Hey Brave Conch, Nothing like good news to make our day. All's well that ends well.
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