I had an upper endoscopy done today (which I pronounce ENdo-scopeeee, which is wrong. Don’t be like me).
I had been fretting about the procedure all of yesterday, because I was actually LOOKING at the prep notes the doctor gave me two weeks ago and it said that 7 days before the procedure, you weren’t supposed to have iron supplements (and then I had to wonder whether I had taken iron supplements), and 5 days before you weren’t supposed to eat corn (which I did on Sunday). And then I had to worry about whether the corn was the biggest deal on earth, which I then googled, and it turns out that for colonoscopies you’re not supposed to eat nuts or corn, because it messes with the scope.
But I wasn’t having a colonoscopy, so, I thought it was pretty safe to say I was okay.
Until I started thinking about the fact that I would be going under anesthesia. I read a story once about a woman who went into surgery and woke up thinking that the surgery was over, but it was in fact just beginning, and she couldn’t move because she was paralyzed, but she felt everything. So I thought, “That won’t happen to me.” And then I thought, “That might fucking happen to me,” which led to a rough night of tossing and turning, weird dreams and angry stomachs since I wasn’t allowed to eat anything past 8pm or drink anything past midnight.
I go into the surgery center today, and they had me fill out some paperwork… made me check that I did not have a living will.
Which of course I freaked out to Paul about.
“I had to check a box that says I don’t have a living will!”
“It’s just to cover their ass. It’s also why you have car insurance. Everyone’s protecting themselves.”
“BUT WHAT IF I DIE!”
“Are you thinking about that story you read? That’s like 1 in a million. It’s statistics.”
“WELL WHAT IF I AM ALSO STATISTICS?”
“You won’t die.”
They had me take a pregnancy test, which I could barely pee, because I had already peed at home, and hadn’t had any fluids. I also knew I wasn’t pregnant, but I let them cover their asses, for insurance purposes or something.
Then they started an IV of fluids, and everyone laughed at the tiny little needle in my hand, and my allergy to olives, and I was off to the procedure room.
In that room, I talked to the nurses and told them I’d never done this before, and I was a little frightened.
The nurse said, “It’ll be fine. We’ll spray your throat with a numbing agent (it tasted like medicinal cherry flavor and it was awful) and then we’ll start to sedate you. You likely won’t remember anything, and you’ll wake up in your room.”
They put in the sedative, and asked me to roll over on my left side, and asked me if I was feeling it yet. “No,” I said, and felt a little proud that I was fighting off the drugs!!!!
… and that’s the last thing I remember.
… the next thing I remember is sipping ginger ale out of a straw, and wondering why the straw looked weird and why I couldn’t get to all of the ginger ale.
Paul tells me that I said:
“I love you so much and thanks for being here with me. I really appreciate you…”
(sidenote: sedated me is SO IN LOVE, just like regular me! YAY!)
And then I continued, “… Was I weird?”
Which is really a long-winded answer because of course I was weird.
The doctor apparently came in and talked to me, and apparently I nodded as though I understood.
I kept trying to stand up, which was a bad idea.
I also tried to leave the center in the little footie socks they gave me.
Paul helped me get those socks off, and put my shirt back on.
I vaguely remember having someone get me to the door and in the car.
Then I called my dad. I don’t remember what I said.
Then we went to Steak N Shake, which I don’t remember requesting, but Paul asked me what I wanted to eat (sidenote: Sedated me wants Steak N Shake! Just like regular me! Sedated me needs to start requesting salads).
Then I tried to call my mom and left some sort of voicemail.
Then we got home, and I called my dad again to confirm that I had, in fact, called him the first time.
Then I ate my food, and went to sleep.
I’ve been subsisting on Ritz crackers and ginger ale for most of the evening, and had some quinoa and veggies too.
The results of the test should be known within a week, but they found:
I have a small hiatus hernia. I have reflux and inflammation in my esophagus. They biopsied some bacteria they found in my stomach, and they found a nodule in my duodenum (which I pronounce duo-dendum, which irritates the living shit out of Paul), which they also biopsied. They also said that I have an enlarged bile duct.
I’m not sure if this means more surgery, but at least there are some answers. Hopefully I can fix one part of my body!
Have a good night, friends. Be kind to yourselves.