OK. I'm lying on the table in one of those "open ass" gowns, covered by a sheet. Just finished watching the pre-procedure video telling me that nothing goes bad and that this is a very safe procedure...except for some possible side effects. They include rectal tear, partial paralysis, loss of sphincter function or death. Funny how they wait until you have fasted, drunk the drink, come to the office, checked in, disrobed and laid yourself on the gurney before telling you of the possible outcomes.
Anyway...I'm lying there and letting my mind drift. There is some staccato noise emanating from somewhere else in this pre-procedure wing. I let it remind me of a song. It does. Landslide by Buckingham Nicks. I start softly singing...
"I took my love. I took it down. Climbed a mountain and I turned around."
From outside the curtain I hear...
"I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills till the landslide brought me down."
She's singing as she opens the curtain. She can't even be 30 and here she is...familiar with Buckingham Nicks.
I smile and compliment her on her knowledge. I ask her if she's been listening to her parents old vinyl records. She tells me "Nope. Most of the music I listen to was recorded before I was born. I just like it better."
Then she continues as she's hooking up the drip.
"Mirror in the sky. What is love? Can the child within my heart rise above?"
I join her for...
"Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Then she pats me on the thigh and tells me that another nurse will be with me shortly to take me to the procedure room.
There and gone. But, another example of the thought that NumbaTwoSon and I share. There ain't nothing like good lyrics. They are ethereal.
Showing posts with label Colonoscopy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Colonoscopy. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Goa'uld Up The Virgin Pipeline
Turns out that this was a big nothing. In all aspects. I'm as healthy as can be. Drinking that "prep" stuff was not all that bad. I added some pineapple flavoring and, since the solution has a salty taste, pretended to be drinking pineapple margaritas.
The sedation was supposed to be some kind of "twilight" deal that would allow me to interact with Dr. Sones as he was colon mining. Yeah. Just like that weed that was dusted is basically the same as the unaltered variety. When the nurse-dude told me he was going to administer something to make me drowsy, I believed him. My next memory is waking in recovery with Kay and some nurse-babe.
Never felt a thing. I did find out that my sleep apnea is cause for concern - for everyone except me. Seems like I stopped breathing several times during the 15-minute procedure. Dr. Sones is going to let Dr. Eddie know all about it. I can see my third sleep clinic overnight visit in the near future. It will probably be followed closely by mandated use of one of those sleepy masky thingies.
Maybe my real problem is that I don't like to use more than my share of the air. I use the minimum to keep the heart pumping and I take frequent rest breaks. As long as I resume breathing at some point, I don't see the problem.
One by-product should be reduced snoring. This will make some female acquaintances happy. It should also help my checkbook. I won't have to book two hotel rooms just so my date will have a place to sleep in peace and quiet. Hell...this masky thingie may actually pay for itself.
The sedation was supposed to be some kind of "twilight" deal that would allow me to interact with Dr. Sones as he was colon mining. Yeah. Just like that weed that was dusted is basically the same as the unaltered variety. When the nurse-dude told me he was going to administer something to make me drowsy, I believed him. My next memory is waking in recovery with Kay and some nurse-babe.
Never felt a thing. I did find out that my sleep apnea is cause for concern - for everyone except me. Seems like I stopped breathing several times during the 15-minute procedure. Dr. Sones is going to let Dr. Eddie know all about it. I can see my third sleep clinic overnight visit in the near future. It will probably be followed closely by mandated use of one of those sleepy masky thingies.
Maybe my real problem is that I don't like to use more than my share of the air. I use the minimum to keep the heart pumping and I take frequent rest breaks. As long as I resume breathing at some point, I don't see the problem.
One by-product should be reduced snoring. This will make some female acquaintances happy. It should also help my checkbook. I won't have to book two hotel rooms just so my date will have a place to sleep in peace and quiet. Hell...this masky thingie may actually pay for itself.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
The First Colonoscopy
Yep. Tuesday 1/20/09. 10:15AM. Sedation will be involved. I have to bring a designated driver with me. No enemas. Now they take the "do it yourself" approach. I suppose that's better than having some guy run copious amounts of liquid up your Whoosis.
Can't really use the Star Trek intro because a man has gone here before. NO! I play for OUR team! My family doctor's probing phalanx has penetrated just enough to check Mr. Prostate (as opposed to "prostrate" which means lying prone).
Actually I had a previous colonoscopy. That was way back in 1980 or so. Seems that some super-hot home made stir fry, washed down with some home made muscadine wine and, on a bet, a quart of Milwaukee's Best Light caused the discomfort. Things like that happened at The Ghetto. This was between marriages. When my sons went to visit their mother for the weekend, I usually did not sleep between Friday afternoon and Sunday morning. The Ghetto was Jerry's house. Located across from the bible college. We frequently ended up there after the bo-ray game at The Bloody Bucket (Sue's Place on 35 South) broke up. But, I digress.
I went to my family doctor because of some discomfort and, to use a female term, spotting. This same doctor would later become my son's father-in-law. There goes that digressing again. Slap. Focus, Samantha! OK. Back on point.
There was a new diagnostic tool in town and he was itching to use it. This was a Monday. I was to report to the hospital Tuesday AM for colonic cleansing and the "procedure". Since my gut was still adversely reacting to hot sauce, Mongolian stir fry, Milwaukee's Best and tequila, it seemed like a good idea to me.
I arrived as previously scheduled and was sent to a room. The only piece of furniture in the room was some kind of potty that looked like a contraption that might have first been used at Salem. Soon thereafter, I had my first meeting with a rather large black gentleman who was minus his neck. I "assumed the position" and the fun began. The KFC that I had for lunch the previous day now seemed like a really bad idea. After an hour or so of colonics, I was pronounced "ready" for the procedure. I was led to a table in one of the emergency room "suites".
My doctor then asks my permission to allow the other doctors in his group, as well as their nurses, and a few nurses who worked at the hospital, to observe my penetration. It was then that I found out that this was the first time the diagnostic machine had ever been used at good old MJMH. How could I refuse?
I was positioned on my left side. My gown was opened. I was greased up for ease of penetration. At no time was I given anything to "dull", "sedate", or "twilight sleep" my bare ass. My only assumption is that someone did not read the instructions all the way to the end. They, like most men, found the part that shows how the thing works and focused on that part.
Now I was on my side watching a monitor as a probe began its entry into almost-virgin territory. I say "almost" because I had spent four years in the service. In addition to "short arms" inspections, they also conducted "bend over and spread 'em" inspections. After a period of many years, I was reminded of the sensation while watching an episode of Stargate SG1. In this episode, a Goa'uld symbiote is implanted into Jack or Sam. Anyway, it wriggles its ugly ass into their body. I wondered if they felt as I did. Again with the digressing.
OK. I have the Goa'uld trekking through uncharted territory up my intestinal tract and, as a man who plays for our team, as opposed to one who may shout "Armageddon" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNYl4aU0w0w I was feeling that basic male need to tighten my cheeks. (Finish reading and then you can click on the link.) It was then that I realized the identity of the nurse assisting my doctor. Friends? No. Adversaries is a better description. I umpired both church and open league women's softball. (Hell, I was single and it was a good way to pick up chicks!) She pitched for both the First Baptizin' Church and one of the better women's open league teams. She liked to argue. She came by it honest because her husband was a Mississippi politician. Anyway, I had tossed her smart ass from numerous games. Suffice to say that we did not trade Christmas cards. Now she's stroking my right cheek and telling me to relax as the probe heads for Deep Space Nine. And I hear all these doctors talking about things they are seeing on the monitor. What I am seeing is something similar to the Hubble nebulae images I would see later in life. Then I recognize some other female voices and the situation hits home. Three of my friends and softball teammates have wives who are nurses at MJMH.
In actuality, this was a profound recognition. I didn't want them to think I was a wuss so I relaxed and let the Goa'uld have its way. The entire penetration probably lasted no more than 15 to 20 minutes. I found out it was worth it when, as I was being wiped and helped to a sitting position, my nemesis leaned over and whispered "nice ass" to me!
Later, I spoke to another of the nurses that I figured had been there. She had. I asked her how many folks had watched the episode. She finally remembered (at least) 6 doctors, 8 nurses and 2 hospital administrators. I should have charged admission...or they should have paid me!
Can't really use the Star Trek intro because a man has gone here before. NO! I play for OUR team! My family doctor's probing phalanx has penetrated just enough to check Mr. Prostate (as opposed to "prostrate" which means lying prone).
Actually I had a previous colonoscopy. That was way back in 1980 or so. Seems that some super-hot home made stir fry, washed down with some home made muscadine wine and, on a bet, a quart of Milwaukee's Best Light caused the discomfort. Things like that happened at The Ghetto. This was between marriages. When my sons went to visit their mother for the weekend, I usually did not sleep between Friday afternoon and Sunday morning. The Ghetto was Jerry's house. Located across from the bible college. We frequently ended up there after the bo-ray game at The Bloody Bucket (Sue's Place on 35 South) broke up. But, I digress.
I went to my family doctor because of some discomfort and, to use a female term, spotting. This same doctor would later become my son's father-in-law. There goes that digressing again. Slap. Focus, Samantha! OK. Back on point.
There was a new diagnostic tool in town and he was itching to use it. This was a Monday. I was to report to the hospital Tuesday AM for colonic cleansing and the "procedure". Since my gut was still adversely reacting to hot sauce, Mongolian stir fry, Milwaukee's Best and tequila, it seemed like a good idea to me.
I arrived as previously scheduled and was sent to a room. The only piece of furniture in the room was some kind of potty that looked like a contraption that might have first been used at Salem. Soon thereafter, I had my first meeting with a rather large black gentleman who was minus his neck. I "assumed the position" and the fun began. The KFC that I had for lunch the previous day now seemed like a really bad idea. After an hour or so of colonics, I was pronounced "ready" for the procedure. I was led to a table in one of the emergency room "suites".
My doctor then asks my permission to allow the other doctors in his group, as well as their nurses, and a few nurses who worked at the hospital, to observe my penetration. It was then that I found out that this was the first time the diagnostic machine had ever been used at good old MJMH. How could I refuse?
I was positioned on my left side. My gown was opened. I was greased up for ease of penetration. At no time was I given anything to "dull", "sedate", or "twilight sleep" my bare ass. My only assumption is that someone did not read the instructions all the way to the end. They, like most men, found the part that shows how the thing works and focused on that part.
Now I was on my side watching a monitor as a probe began its entry into almost-virgin territory. I say "almost" because I had spent four years in the service. In addition to "short arms" inspections, they also conducted "bend over and spread 'em" inspections. After a period of many years, I was reminded of the sensation while watching an episode of Stargate SG1. In this episode, a Goa'uld symbiote is implanted into Jack or Sam. Anyway, it wriggles its ugly ass into their body. I wondered if they felt as I did. Again with the digressing.
OK. I have the Goa'uld trekking through uncharted territory up my intestinal tract and, as a man who plays for our team, as opposed to one who may shout "Armageddon" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNYl4aU0w0w I was feeling that basic male need to tighten my cheeks. (Finish reading and then you can click on the link.) It was then that I realized the identity of the nurse assisting my doctor. Friends? No. Adversaries is a better description. I umpired both church and open league women's softball. (Hell, I was single and it was a good way to pick up chicks!) She pitched for both the First Baptizin' Church and one of the better women's open league teams. She liked to argue. She came by it honest because her husband was a Mississippi politician. Anyway, I had tossed her smart ass from numerous games. Suffice to say that we did not trade Christmas cards. Now she's stroking my right cheek and telling me to relax as the probe heads for Deep Space Nine. And I hear all these doctors talking about things they are seeing on the monitor. What I am seeing is something similar to the Hubble nebulae images I would see later in life. Then I recognize some other female voices and the situation hits home. Three of my friends and softball teammates have wives who are nurses at MJMH.
In actuality, this was a profound recognition. I didn't want them to think I was a wuss so I relaxed and let the Goa'uld have its way. The entire penetration probably lasted no more than 15 to 20 minutes. I found out it was worth it when, as I was being wiped and helped to a sitting position, my nemesis leaned over and whispered "nice ass" to me!
Later, I spoke to another of the nurses that I figured had been there. She had. I asked her how many folks had watched the episode. She finally remembered (at least) 6 doctors, 8 nurses and 2 hospital administrators. I should have charged admission...or they should have paid me!
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