This morning, after having eaten nothing since Monday evening, and drinking 8.3 oz. of Miralax in every conceivable clear liquid along with 4, count ’em , FOUR Dulcolax tablets yesterday, then nothing at all after midnight and after having spent 2/3 of Tuesday hunched on a toilet bowl praying for death (or Thursday) I arrived at the offices of my two dear gastroenterologists.
I was instructed to arrive by 8:00 a.m. for “the procedure” at 8:30. When I arrived there was no one at the reception window so my SIL (bless his heart) and I stood there until this squawky voice called from an adjoining room “Be right with ya!”
As the lovely lady (cough*BULLSHIT*cough) made her way towards the window I smiled and said “Good morning!”. I was ignored. She took my paperwork without a word and asked me “So,you’re here for a colonoscopy. Did the stuff work?”
What? “the stuff“? OH!!! “Yes, thank you, it worked.” I said. My SIL took a couple of steps back.
She came around the corner and said “Follow me”. I turned to SIL and said ” Go on. Get out of here, I’ll call you when I’m done” and he scooted out the door! She took me to her little corner cubbie and attached a heart monitor and a blood pressure cuff then proceeded to squint and peck at her computer while the machine attached to my tubes and wires tried its best to cause complete blood loss to that limb.
I watched her silently pecking, looking…pecking…watching, waiting…for what seemed like hours. OK, it was about 15 minutes but it felt longer because my left hand was dead blue in color and my heart rate was jumping all over the place. Finally she asked me the same questions that I had answered on the papers I was told to bring AND the same questions this office had had their PA ask me three weeks ago. No, I do not take any medications. No I am not allergic to anything. No, I am not diabetic!! For God’s sake woman! Can’t any of you read????
Finally she stood and directed me down the hall to the prep area. Five women I assume were nurses ( Nurses are evidently NOT gonna wear white, dammit!) stopped and watched me enter the room. Not one smiled or said a word to me. I was instructed by my lovely (cough*BULLSHIT*cough) lady to remove my clothes and put on the handkerchief “with the ties in the back”.
Suddenly I became aware that the nurses had regained their voices. A multitude of sounds approximating the sounds of hens clucking and scratching assaulted my ears and the ears of everyone in the room.
“So I said to her ‘ I am NOT gonna take my day off to drive him to the dentist. He can get Marie to do it!” and ” Oh, you shouldn’t have to!” “Where are the bagels? I know there were half a dozen here this morning!” “He can just go fly a kite! I am not his little servant girl!” “They want me to fill in AGAIN for Dotty on Friday!” ” Is this coffee fresh?”
Now here’s the part of the blog where I’m supposed to stop and say that I have a tremendous respect for nurses, which I do. I am supposed to say that they soothed my brow and made me feel cared for and that theirs is a difficult job and so on and so forth. Well, today I was not impressed. This rant is about me and my experience today so if you are a nurse, or you’re married to a nurse or you have a relative who is a nurse, please don’t go all ballistic and start the flames, OK?
Finally one of the less hunched of the quintet made her way to my cubicle and began to ask me AGAIN “Are you allergic to anything? Do you have diabetes? Did you eat anything this morning?” She told me about the storm she witnessed last night as if I don’t live in the area and I didn’t experience the same thunderstorm. She rattled on about how she has a chain saw but her nephew says she shouldn’t use it because it’s too dangerous but will he bring his sorry ass over to clean up the branches that fell last night..oh no he won’t! All the while she is poking me with an IV needle. Holy Mother of God! She is jabbing that thing like she’s sewing up a Christmas turkey’s ass! “Sorry. I bruised the vein a little there…wait…oh, good, I think it’s in…oops, nope! Ahh……there we go.”
I watched the male anesthesiologist roll his eyes while waiting his turn to talk to me. He whispered in my ear after she had gone “I’m sorry about that.”
I didn’t feel great about being a woman in that room of women right then. Hell, I didn’t feel great….period.
When I woke up after the procedure one of the hens…I mean nurses, came over to see if I was alive. I assured her that I was and I said “There’s something wet down here by my butt” and she laughed and said “Don’t worry about it. Everybody says that!” When she left I used my IV hand to reach down to my hip and I felt something on the mattress. Grasping it as well as I could I pulled it out and it was a plastic cup! I must have made a noise because the nurse came back and said “OH! That’s an irrigation cup! It spilled all over your bed!” NO SHIT, SHERLOCK!!!!!
Let me tell you, I was never so glad for the doctor to pronounce me fit to go home about ten minutes later. Two polyps removed and the doctor’s pronouncement that they didn’t appear to be cancerous (but they will be biopsied to make sure) and I was outa there! Two years of freedom from the fear of death- by- colon -cancer for me and a few thousand buckaroos for the doctor! It’s a win/win!