It's the schedule which had a conflict, not a conflict among warring doctors. Pardon. I'm starting this while dregs of anesthesia are still filtering out of my system.
Steve's appointment was the easy one. He needed to go see the cardiologist who saw him in the hospital, when his heart rate was down in the 20s a couple times. The plan was to give him a halter monitor (no, nobody's monitoring a halter) to wear for three weeks to check his rate over a longer time. He's been keeping track several times a day with one of those finger things which give O2 % and BPM. When his cardiologist heard it's consistently been in the 60s, and higher with moderate activity, the cardiologist just grinned and sent him home with an appointment for a recheck in the fall. Easy peasy. On the wall calendar now, though instead of having to hold the pages before October up while writing the appointment info and fully spelling "cardiologist" or the man's name which I can't spell in the little square, I simply drew a heart, Steve's name, and the time.
It was my appointment that got more involved. First, I needed transportation. A friend from the club offered a couple months back, and I took her up on it but for a different reason than Steve having a conflicting need for the car. Back then his back was still killing him, requiring an opioid painkiller, meaning I'd have to drive but I'd be incapacitated. She was happy to step in, and brought a wire project she'd learned in the club which takes lots of attention to detail while waiting in the waiting room to drive me home. It's called Viking knit. Unfortunately she's had a lot of time in waiting rooms recently, first for her husband and then her Mom. Her Viking knit work is perfection!
I needed a colonoscopy. Yes, go ahead and cringe! I've been doing the mail testing for a few years, and this time I needed a follow-up. They promised they now use propofol, rather than the 3 drug cocktail from a decade ago which in way too many cases left the "recipient" of the procedure awake, feeling everything, but paralyzed and unable to tell the doc to go to hell starting yesterday! I was one of those. At least that part of today was easy.
The prep has gotten more complicated in exchange. You start with a double dose of laxative, an out of pocket expense. While you need two, no packet comes with fewer than 25. That's 23 wasted, since Immodium tends to be more useful in this household. Not often, just more than once. I threw out the stuff from the last procedure untouched after 6 years, needing the shelf space. There's long list of instructions, dos and don'ts. A week ahead, no nuts. Dang! 2 nights ahead, 2 laxative pills, but be careful, they are teenier than aspirins we older folk take for... whatever it was for. Those had to be stopped several days ahead as well. So did anything with red dye in it so I wouldn't dye my own insides and confuse the Doc. No orange or purple either. I checked and my favorite root beer has caramel color, so I was good to go with that. "Soda (aka pop) was on the clear liquids list. I had to stop eating ahead of time, and not just the midnight before the procedure.
So far, minor annoyances, but that's all.
The morning of the day before there's a gallon jug with some powder in the bottom: Gavilite-G solution. Quantity is 4000. They can't be bothered to tell you 4000 what. One might be persuaded that it's good for 4,000 squirts (ahem) after you take it. Once taken, however, 4000 is obviously a gross (!) underestimate of its potency.
One starts around 2PM. I wanted to get to bed early so I started at 1:30. Each dose of the mixed, chilled-in-the-fridge-since-morning concoction is 8 ounces. I got a measuring cup and poured 8 ounces into my favorite plastic cup to check the level. (Hey, no glass to risk breaking in the bathroom!) Drink one every 10 to 20 minutes. Unless you feel nauseous, in which case it's 20-30 minutes, which I figured would take one into the procedure appointment itself. Take 1. watch TV. Take 2. Watch more TV. Nausea starts. Drat! Empty out the wastebasket, plastic with a solid bottom, close at hand. Nothing happens. I don't understand the nausea because the flavor we were warned about (keep a nice flavored chaser handy) was merely salty. Not table salty, just not awful. The stomach starts to feel over-full, so I wonder what's plugging the flow and when is there going to be room for the next dose? Both nausea and full feeling ease off, and suddenly, race down the hall! Cleanup ensues. Clothing gets removed. Oh hell, toss the stuff! I could take some time standing at the sink to... oops, not a chance! Just made it this time, one of the advantages of having a tiny bathroom.
I am now officially wedded to the throne for the duration. I call Steve, and he brings me my laptop which turns out to need charging because I've been on it most of the day killing time. He also brings the kitchen timer, my gallon jug, and my plastic cup, and leaves quickly. I consider asking him to bring my phone and/or magazines, but figure I'll be busy enough without them. Bored, maybe, but busy.
There is literally no time window where it is safe to consider straying a foot from the throne. Yes, I'd like to get a couple things, but once the water mix decided to work it never stopped. One might get a minute here or three there, but there was never warning and no way of stopping it for a second. Inviting disaster was to mandate a cleanup one would never finish before another was mandated.
Time to just settle in. I spent some time working out how many cups were in a gallon and how long it would take to drink them all. Better not take that 20-30 minute window between drinks, especially now that nausea was not a factor. Let's go 18. OK, try 15. That's only 4 an hour. How about 12? Hell with it, 10 and that's all! I just know that this particular wind-up timer isn't accurate in small segments of time unless one swings way past the half hour and brings it back. I also make sure that I set up the next drink a minute or two ahead of the bell so I'm not wasting another hour until bedtime, but take Only. Ten. Minutes. Exactly!
It wasn't just that I wanted sleep. I have come to the firm conviction that there is no toilet seat in the world that is comfortable to sit on for hours. My legs get nerve pinches in half an hour, verified by long phone calls at that location. (Not that I let any of you know.) So hours on the throne need mitigation which can't involve actually leaving the throne. Swaying, rocking, lifting and dropping them are involved at various and frequent intervals. I put the now warming bottle on the floor to one side of me, requiring a lean each 10 minutes. The filled cup I put over on the other for the same reason. TP had a 3rd location, the timer a 4th, and when none worked well enough, there were massages, sprinkled with grumbling.
Oh, and did I mention that bathroom is the hottest room in the house in summer? No AC vent there. Big south window.
Eventually I just HAD TO lie down. Fortunately I know exactly where the needed protection for the bed was and it was two feet away from the bed. I got a half hour respite, but it wasn't until the gallon was finally gone so I knew input was stopped. Output had to catch up to that fact eventually, right?
OK, so I was an optimist. But the legs got a needed reprieve before taking up the cause again, and eventually I emerged back into human company. It was time for more clear liquids. I wasn't feeling dehydrated, just finally approaching normal. But I was exhausted and a bit shaky from lack of carbs all day. I'd thoughtfully provided myself with all sugar free beverages for the day. My blood sugar was down to 83. Steve would have brought me some ice cream until I reminded him it didn't qualify as a clear liquid. We settled for my root beer, some boullion to take my bedtime pills with, and since I still needed sugar, a blue lollipop Rich donated to the cause.
Morning came at 4 AM. I dutifully had the one morning pill I was allowed before the procedure with a sip of water, watched some TV, took a shower, and waited for my ride. Everything went as expected until I was waking up and heard they only did half of it. I'd have to do the whole thing again! Call their office in 2 days to reschedule. Apparently I can decide on before we head north or after we get back.
I asked why, and was told that all those hours and all that gallon only cleared out half of me. Next time we get to do twice the prep. For twice the days.
Whee......
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