Dance, 3; Looks, 10.
Mar. 3rd, 2011 06:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogI'm ba-a-a-a-a-ck! And baby got a healthy one:)
No way was I gonna be the first man alive to liveblog a colonoscopy, but with nothing else to do for close to three hours, I took good mental notes. Here they are.
10:15- Arrive at Millard Fillmore Suburban's spacious driveup entrance, complete with valet parking. No need for latter, as Eleanor has dropped me off. She also preregistered me when they called yesterday, cutting down on the amount of paperwork I would be required to do.
10:20- Do no paperwork, and get a personal escort from GI/Urology admissions to the GI/Urology Procedure waiting area. All these GI references are reminding me of the theme song to the old childhood action figure: GI Joe, GI Joe, fighting man from head to..... whatever.
10:25- Get introduced to the receptionists, who tell me to have a seat until called. All "seats," at least all the ones within sight of both the reception desk and the swinging doors where the Grab Reapers come from, are occupied by fellow waiting patients or waiting-for-patients. Additionally, almost all of whom are slogging down various snackies, including hot coffee and Timbits. I'm sure nobody told them that a large number of the people waiting here have been fasting since midnight and have been completely off solid food for over 24 hours. Stomach growls louder.
10:30- First notice that this waiting area, for GI/Urology patients and with a capacity of maybe 60, has exactly one toilet with exactly one stall. Watch as two orderlies shut it for five minutes or so while some prior indiscretion is attended to. Wonder how much a medical consulting firm would charge to recommend that more than one in this particular venue would be a real good idea.
10:40- Stop being smartass and get out iPhone to finish reading iBook and listen to iPod. Phone is on silent, with a stern message telling clients I'm out all day and won't be retrieving messages. (They proceed to leave them anyway.) Discover that Overture, the library's required download to read their ebooks, (a) turns off the iPod as soon as it's turned on, (b) loses its place every time I back out of it to do anything else, and (c) is, generally, a pain in the ass. I know, what better time and place for such functionality?
11:30- Switch to primordial waiting-room combination of my old-school .mp3 player and the latest New Yorker. The lead story in the latter is a "personal history" piece about the author's mother, who just died of colorectal cancer. After finishing a little GBS and Dogs Eye View, the .mp3 player goes into a Warren Zevon album, who died of cancer a few years back. Undaunted, I switch to the player's FM function; Fresh Air is on, and that's always interesting. Maybe too interesting: it's about Grant Achatz: the chef who lost his sense of taste. So it's alternating between telling wonderful tales of om noms to a guy who's been fasting, and dangerous discussions of tongue cancer. I fully expect dreams of deadly dancing cigarettes with Dexter-style long knives while I'm under sedation.
Noonish- My number is finally called, and I'm brought to the pre-op area for disclosures, signatures, BP checks, costume change and the IV insertion. Now that we're under way, everything starts to go beautifully. Nurse Jackie (I swear I'm not making that up) nails the IV with perfect precision, gets me a blanket, even lets me keep my mp3 player because I still have some waiting to do.
12:30 or so- I notice the patient to my right has brought her ride in with her. Turns out she's also her ASL translator. Not sure if it was her daughter or a professional, but I just watched in not-sedated sleepy happiness as the two of them and Jacks went through all the same things she'd gone through with me and the answers looked visually perfect.
12:45- Dr. Butts arrives to talk to the grrls next door, since the patient is very scared- of needles, of anaesthesiac reaction, probably of the whole procedure. He tries to reassure her in his gruff yet (he thinks) lovable bedside manner: "Don't you worry- I'll do her first just to show you how easy it is!" Not sure if he was motioning to Jackie or the translator, but I had to pipe up from the next bed, "He's not kidding- my wife brought me in and I had to wait three days until he finished her!" Fortunately, the patient didn't hear this.
Almost 1- I get my audience with the doctor, or as he's known in Polish-Italian, Il Dupa. Everything gonna be fine.
Right round 1- See a medico of unknown rank pushing past with this.... THING. I can only describe it as a cross between a crash cart and a Zamboni.
1:15 maybe? Roll to procedure room, where they roll me onto one side. And the lights.... go down.... on Broadddway!
----
2-something- All done. I had the vaguest feels, heard the slightest voices, cared the absolute shittest least. Takes me 10 minutes to realize I'm out of the procedure room and back in the recovery area adjacent to pre-op. Not really caring about that, either.
2:30- Know, from Eleanor's prior experience, that voluntary and repeated farting is actually encouraged at this point. I do more than my share.
2:45 Nurse Not Jackie comes by. (I didn't look; I'm still so out of it I think one of the other nurses has a pattern of skunks on her scrubs.) She confirms details on my ride (is being called) and my post-op activities (none, if not fewer), rips the electrodes from my doghaired core and extracts the IV, tells me the doctor will be right in, and, oh, happens to mention that everything went just fine- nothing found.
2:50- Doc comes by to say he'll see me in 5-10 years, unless I want him to do it again in three weeks. He'll be here. Ya know what, King of Comedy? I won't.
Moments later- Nurse NJ wheels me out to door of waiting Emilymobile. On the way, pass the other nurse, and those ARE skunks on her scrubs. Just cute ones.
3-z- Home. Do not return calls or emails that accumulated. Solid food passes lips. Out cold until about half an hour ago.
So Jerry, that's the story? That's the storrrrreeeee!
I am free of signs of trouble for years to come. Once they got to actually doing their jobs versus being a very overpriced bus station, things went beautifully. I am going to have to say something to someone about the Timbits, though.
No way was I gonna be the first man alive to liveblog a colonoscopy, but with nothing else to do for close to three hours, I took good mental notes. Here they are.
10:15- Arrive at Millard Fillmore Suburban's spacious driveup entrance, complete with valet parking. No need for latter, as Eleanor has dropped me off. She also preregistered me when they called yesterday, cutting down on the amount of paperwork I would be required to do.
10:20- Do no paperwork, and get a personal escort from GI/Urology admissions to the GI/Urology Procedure waiting area. All these GI references are reminding me of the theme song to the old childhood action figure: GI Joe, GI Joe, fighting man from head to..... whatever.
10:25- Get introduced to the receptionists, who tell me to have a seat until called. All "seats," at least all the ones within sight of both the reception desk and the swinging doors where the Grab Reapers come from, are occupied by fellow waiting patients or waiting-for-patients. Additionally, almost all of whom are slogging down various snackies, including hot coffee and Timbits. I'm sure nobody told them that a large number of the people waiting here have been fasting since midnight and have been completely off solid food for over 24 hours. Stomach growls louder.
10:30- First notice that this waiting area, for GI/Urology patients and with a capacity of maybe 60, has exactly one toilet with exactly one stall. Watch as two orderlies shut it for five minutes or so while some prior indiscretion is attended to. Wonder how much a medical consulting firm would charge to recommend that more than one in this particular venue would be a real good idea.
10:40- Stop being smartass and get out iPhone to finish reading iBook and listen to iPod. Phone is on silent, with a stern message telling clients I'm out all day and won't be retrieving messages. (They proceed to leave them anyway.) Discover that Overture, the library's required download to read their ebooks, (a) turns off the iPod as soon as it's turned on, (b) loses its place every time I back out of it to do anything else, and (c) is, generally, a pain in the ass. I know, what better time and place for such functionality?
11:30- Switch to primordial waiting-room combination of my old-school .mp3 player and the latest New Yorker. The lead story in the latter is a "personal history" piece about the author's mother, who just died of colorectal cancer. After finishing a little GBS and Dogs Eye View, the .mp3 player goes into a Warren Zevon album, who died of cancer a few years back. Undaunted, I switch to the player's FM function; Fresh Air is on, and that's always interesting. Maybe too interesting: it's about Grant Achatz: the chef who lost his sense of taste. So it's alternating between telling wonderful tales of om noms to a guy who's been fasting, and dangerous discussions of tongue cancer. I fully expect dreams of deadly dancing cigarettes with Dexter-style long knives while I'm under sedation.
Noonish- My number is finally called, and I'm brought to the pre-op area for disclosures, signatures, BP checks, costume change and the IV insertion. Now that we're under way, everything starts to go beautifully. Nurse Jackie (I swear I'm not making that up) nails the IV with perfect precision, gets me a blanket, even lets me keep my mp3 player because I still have some waiting to do.
12:30 or so- I notice the patient to my right has brought her ride in with her. Turns out she's also her ASL translator. Not sure if it was her daughter or a professional, but I just watched in not-sedated sleepy happiness as the two of them and Jacks went through all the same things she'd gone through with me and the answers looked visually perfect.
12:45- Dr. Butts arrives to talk to the grrls next door, since the patient is very scared- of needles, of anaesthesiac reaction, probably of the whole procedure. He tries to reassure her in his gruff yet (he thinks) lovable bedside manner: "Don't you worry- I'll do her first just to show you how easy it is!" Not sure if he was motioning to Jackie or the translator, but I had to pipe up from the next bed, "He's not kidding- my wife brought me in and I had to wait three days until he finished her!" Fortunately, the patient didn't hear this.
Almost 1- I get my audience with the doctor, or as he's known in Polish-Italian, Il Dupa. Everything gonna be fine.
Right round 1- See a medico of unknown rank pushing past with this.... THING. I can only describe it as a cross between a crash cart and a Zamboni.
1:15 maybe? Roll to procedure room, where they roll me onto one side. And the lights.... go down.... on Broadddway!
----
2-something- All done. I had the vaguest feels, heard the slightest voices, cared the absolute shittest least. Takes me 10 minutes to realize I'm out of the procedure room and back in the recovery area adjacent to pre-op. Not really caring about that, either.
2:30- Know, from Eleanor's prior experience, that voluntary and repeated farting is actually encouraged at this point. I do more than my share.
2:45 Nurse Not Jackie comes by. (I didn't look; I'm still so out of it I think one of the other nurses has a pattern of skunks on her scrubs.) She confirms details on my ride (is being called) and my post-op activities (none, if not fewer), rips the electrodes from my doghaired core and extracts the IV, tells me the doctor will be right in, and, oh, happens to mention that everything went just fine- nothing found.
2:50- Doc comes by to say he'll see me in 5-10 years, unless I want him to do it again in three weeks. He'll be here. Ya know what, King of Comedy? I won't.
Moments later- Nurse NJ wheels me out to door of waiting Emilymobile. On the way, pass the other nurse, and those ARE skunks on her scrubs. Just cute ones.
3-z- Home. Do not return calls or emails that accumulated. Solid food passes lips. Out cold until about half an hour ago.
So Jerry, that's the story? That's the storrrrreeeee!
I am free of signs of trouble for years to come. Once they got to actually doing their jobs versus being a very overpriced bus station, things went beautifully. I am going to have to say something to someone about the Timbits, though.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-03-03 11:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-04 01:31 am (UTC)But why on earth don't they schedule better? I've never waited more than 30 minutes.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-04 01:35 am (UTC)One thing it did remind me of was- this is how court hearings seem for YOUR clients who don't do them every day, or even every week. I shall try to pass on some of that
gascompassion in coming months.no subject
Date: 2011-03-04 02:18 am (UTC)