Currently under the effects of twilight anesthesia, having his first colonoscopy, little does he know I am busy writing yet another blog about his intestinal activities. If he had been like the rest of us and only lost three temporary pounds during the fasting part I would have left this alone. But no, he got to lose ten pounds and I say that is not fair! Something needs to be done to right the balance.
"It must be public humiliation!" I declare to myself.
The story begins...
Sitting in the waiting room a thought creeps through my mind; one of those big life thoughts. More important than wondering about where I'll "be" after I die is, "what on earth is it that happens in someone's young life to lead them to eventually declare 'I want to be a proctologist'?" I could ask the doctor when I go back to see Steve after the procedure, but perhaps I don't really want to know.
My thoughts thankfully redirect themselves quickly and I snap back to my present environment. The waiting room at this joint is not very jovial. Half of the group is famished and cranky, and the other half, their drivers (aka significant others), are busy staring off into space, thinking about what else they could be doing. HGTV is on and they're showing a bathroom remodel which most of us could probably use after the past 24 hours of destruction in our own homes. An elderly lady came tottering out from the back and they called her husband's name. In her post-anesthesia delirium she started weaving her way back to the procedure room. Her husband yelled out "Martha! Not that way! Isn't one time enough for you?" That got everyone snickering in the waiting room, and suddenly we felt a certain camaraderie as we nodded imperceptibly to each other with a conspiratorial wink. We all knew why we were there and what we had been dealing with since yesterday.
Our heads all swung simultaneously back to the bathroom remodel on HGTV. Personally I think the plumbers and designers in town might be in cahoots with the proctologists. I suspect they've supplied the doctors with a continuous loop of remodeling feed, seeing as they have a pretty captive audience. Speaking for myself, my takeaway from this show was that I definitely need a marble counter top and two basin sinks now in our master bath. Plus, of course, cabinets, new tile for the shower and updated hardware for the drawers. And obviously, a new toilet. Apparently it's not the medical procedures that are so expensive. It's what you end up doing to your home after watching a show like this while in the waiting room; or perusing a high-end decorating magazine while waiting on your significant other to have their colon scoped. Sounds fair to me.
Before I knew it they were calling me back to the recovery room to see Steve. The entire procedure went so quickly, from check-in to prep to procedure, I had not even finished my coffee. Initially I was a bit miffed that my time to gather more blog content for this story was being cut short. I had really been looking forward to at least an hour of alone time in the waiting room, gathering information, observing, eavesdropping on other conversations. It was not to be had this morning.
As I kissed Steve on the forehead and asked him how he was feeling he smiled at me and, still under the lingering influence of the anesthesia said, "jebba shimsnig finbieng thruby". Which loosely translated means "I love you Cynthia and I want you to have all of my money".
The PA buzzed around Steve's bed, checking his vitals, making sure he was comfortable and helped him sit-up so we could start getting ready to leave. Apparently our insurance plan only covers 7.5 minutes in the recovery room and she was on a mission. She chattered away about how well he had done, everything looked just fine, the doctor would be by in a minute or two to review the results and answer any questions, and then opened a folder and said "would you like to see pictures of your colon?"
I don't think anyone really knows what the correct answer is to that question, but in trying to be responsible middle-aged adults we felt pressured to say yes. Steve, still in a bit of a stupor, looked at the images and then said "OMG! It's beautiful! It looks like a sunset!" Obviously switching to coloured images instead of black and white like the old days has a certain value-added entertainment factor.
I, for one, was thrilled at his response. "That is pure gold, being handed to me on a silver platter" I thought to myself. "What a perfect ending for my story!"
Poor Steve...and he thought I was going to write about the cats this morning.