I started the day with dry swallowing an Ativan, which seemed to do nothing for my state of agitation over the endoscopy. When I arrived, they took me in immediately, and as I lay on the little stretcher the anesthesiologist says: colonoscopy? I look at him and tell him they are in for a big surprise if they do that as I did not prep for THAT test.
Then I go to the next room in my little bed where the nurse is cleaning off a long tube, which I say "oh, is that going down my throat and into my stomach?" She looks at me and says "no honey, not this one". I look and say, "well, if this is the room you are doing the procedure in, and that is the butt tube, then you are NOT putting that down my throat into my stomach!" She looks at me and says, "OH, you are having an endoscopy! We have to get the other tube". In my head I am wondering whose butt that was in last, and the thought of it going into my throat.
Now I have no doubt that I would have had the right test done in the end, but I was a bit startled by everyone assuming that I was there for a colonoscopy. I know they want to see my ass, but they have to work up for that test. I'm not THAT easy.
I have a wonderful doctor, a beautiful woman from some exotic country, who had on patchwork leather pants which took me back to the 70's, and a shirt with the most adorable embellished sleeves.
Classy I thought. I like this doctor. What I really want is those pants.
The anesthesia guy starts to inject the juice into my IV (done fabulously by the previous nurse on the first stab!) and my entire hand and arm feels like its on fire. "WTF" I mumble and ask him what is happening. He explains that he is starting the drugs. Why they don't tell you that your arm feels like it will be on fire is beyond me. Then the doc put this blue bite thing with a hole in it in my mouth which reminds me of something I saw in the BDSM section of the "toy" store. "Hey, this is getting a bit kinky" I mumble, and that was the last thing I remember.
I wake up and they ask if I want Larry there. "Sure, why not" I have a slight panic attack as I don't know where I am... the painting on the wall is of a flower, not the one of the cyprus trees on a Tuscan hillside that was in the room I last remember. I realize that I am in a recovery room, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
I am drugged for a while, and so mellow that my BP is 80/60. I have hypertension, so for me that is quite unusual, and they make me eat some sugary things to get some food into me and raise the old BP. It takes a while, but then I am ready to go.
I came home and had to finish the taxes. I don't remember much of the conversation with John, how I got the figures in the right boxes and how I wrote out the check. I decided I could not drive so Meredith came to take me to the PO to post it, then I came home to fall directly into bed for several hours.
I managed to go to dinner at Joshua's, one of Woodstock's only remaining original restaurants from way back in the day. I remember going there for tea back in the early 70's with my friends. It still has the same ambiance, and the food is great.I did break the rule of no alcohol, as I was not driving, and had a bit of champagne and wine to toast to Karen's birthday.
The doc said that I do have irritation and inflammation of the stomach, and they took a few biopsies. I will get the results in a few weeks, but in the meantime I am starting on Prevacid. Add THAT to my list of medications for now. But once I get a true diagnosis, I will be searching for a natural cure/solution.
Off to bed, I am still tired. But I survived and it wasn't all that bad.
Patti O Procedure