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Vini, vidi, vici … the colonoscopy

March 21, 2014

colonpre

Today is Miss P’s Birthday.  Don’t anybody tell her.   We aren’t celebrating for two more weeks, when we will party in Birmingham with both sets of Grandparents!   I am screening her calls.  Aunt Brenda called this morning and asked, “May I speak with Miss P?” I had no choice but to say, “No, you may not.”

Mostly we aren’t telling her it’s her Birthday, because nothing that happens today could compare with the glories of her colonoscopy yesterday.  Arriving at the hospital, new purse on her arm, she was understandably nervous:

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We checked in without incident, and she was given a room and purple pajamas.  Then, as Elizabeth would say, her luck turned, and she heard those fateful words: “Do you like stickers?”

Does an alcoholic like drink?

In some rooms, I am sure patients were frantically pushing the call button for more morphine.  In ours the cry was for more stickers!

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If I had known it was going to be so much fun, we would have invited friends and family and called it her Birthday party.  I’m telling you, that place is better than Chuckee Cheese.  After two hours of sticker joy, she was wheeled down the hall in her rolling bed, her mouth frozen as wide open as any muppet in excitement.  She didn’t close her excited mouth until it was time to breathe into the mask.  The anesthesiologist hugged her and whispered in her ear and stroked her head until she was out.

About a half hour later, into the room strode the doctor, waving a jar containing a sizeable intestinal polyp for my inspection.  From his enthusiasm, you’d have thought he found an Easter Egg in there! Apparently, this was a very satisfactory colonoscopy outcome.  So we’ll take it.

As I wheeled Miss P to the parking ramp, she asked if we could swing by the cafeteria.  Since she had been fasting for 48 hours without complaint, I could hardly say no.  We found a table and she enjoyed a plate of fried chicken, a bag of cheesy Doritos, and a chocolate milk:  a soothing post-op “first meal”.  When Miss P paused between pieces of chicken to treat the other diners to a round of “Castle On A Cloud” from Les Mis, I knew we were back on track.

Below: The patient resting comfortably at home with three young surgeons at the ready.

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