I’m done with today’s colonoscopy and, even better, I’m off the hook for another five years. The doctor removed another small polyp but that appeared to be the last. Other than that all was routine.
We got to the endoscopy office and waited at the elevator with another, older couple. Mr. B, dressed like me in sweatpants and a long-sleeve T-shirt, jokingly asked me “how was your night of sleep?”
“I’ve had better!” I laughed, recognizing the Patient Uniform we both were wearing. It was Mr. B’s second colonoscopy, ten years after his first. I told him the second time was easier though with a gap of ten years he might have forgotten all about the first. Mr. B got seen first and I’d wished I’d had more time to chat with him because he and his wife were so friendly and nice.
My account I posted this morning was roughly correct with a few changes. Andi, the anesthesiologist, never gave me a chance to count. I was chattering away about how I knew the name of the pulse oximeter she had placed on my finger and went into the story of our daughter being born a preemie. All the while she’s plunging a syringe right in front of me and I don’t even notice! A second later, my head starts swirling and I don’t even have time to say “hey!” before the lights go out and I’m gone.
I was comfortably out for the 40 minutes or so I was back there (Dr. Schwartz told me beforehand that the actual scope process took about 20 minutes). Regaining consciousness was an interesting process. I awoke to the sight of Kelly at my side and Dr. Schwartz standing at the curtain. Apparently we had been joking around about a front-end loader – I believe the doc asked if I was all ready to operate a front-end loader or something. At first my mouth would move and words came out but my mind would instantly forget what was said. I repeated a question or two more than once.
Gradually my recall began to return and things began to stick in my memory again. Fortunately, Kelly wrote down everything the doc said and then with little fanfare I was asked to get dressed again to be wheeled out of the recovery room. The endoscopy place operates like a well-oiled machine.
As we waited for one of the staffmembers to roll me out in a wheelchair, I saw Mr. B in line for the same service.
“Wanna race?” he grinned as he gave me a thumbs up over his shoulder. I smiled back and laughed. It was a good reminder to make the most of a unpleasant situation.
And that was pretty much it. I was loaded into the car, Kelly stopped to get me my requested Egg McMuffins, and I took a two hour nap at home. I couldn’t drive nor do anything requiring coordination or concentration so I caught up on today’s news and rested.