This past Tuesday, I had the endoscopy at I mentioned in a previous column. Just to be on the safe side, I re-read the instructions the doctor had given me. This act is much like reading the warranty after you made a purchase.
The most important thing instruction was what I could not eat or drink after midnight, the night before the endoscopy.
Okay, I could handle that. Next, someone had to drive me to and from the appointment. Again, not a problem, as my wife Marcy already had agreed to do it and go to work late that day.
On Monday, while I was at work, the office of the physician, doing the endoscopy, called to add that I could not drive for 24 hours after the procedure. What is that about? I was stuck home the entire day and couldn’t do anything. It also meant that we had to arrange to get to the school play, featuring my daughter, that same night.
This disaster was resolved when my in-laws said they would pick us up. We, Marcy and I, arrive for the endoscopy on time and fill out paperwork. The anesthesiologist introduces himself, my confidence declines, and I ask what drug of choice he uses. The answer is Propofol, a common drug, in the hypnotic class, used for endoscopies and such.
They escort me into a treatment room and throw a blue gown over my regular clothes. I sit down on the table. Dr. G, the anesthesiologist, puts the IV in my right arm and attaches whatever tubing he has to use. Dr. C puts a plastic guard in my mouth, and secures it around my head. He has me lay down, and I’m gone.
I wake up an hour later in another room, minus the gown and sitting in a chair. I felt so relaxed. I was happy it was over. I ask about the time; it’s now 10:15 am. I was out for an hour! Holy crap, someone turned off my consciousness.
I don’t get a lot of information from Dr. C., other than everything went well and he removed a polyp. I was still a little woozy. I didn’t ask from where or what it meant. Where do I get my lost hour refunded?
Marcy and I had decided beforehand that we were going to go to breakfast after this. W went to a local diner I had been to before. I was starving and had a bacon and cheddar cheese omelet, with home fries, and whole-wheat toast. The information sheet, I was given on my way out of the office, indicated I may have a sore throat and have trouble swallowing. I had both.
It was a little hard to enjoy breakfast. I enjoyed breakfast. Believe me. A diner breakfast is one of the true joys in life.
We got home around 11 am. I promptly got into bed. Daphne, the cat, decided to join me and keep me warm. We slept for two or three hours. Even after I woke up, I still didn’t feel right. I guess that was why they said I couldn’t drive for 24 hours.
I had one other thing planned that day, which was getting an exchange on my 47” flat screen television. Luckily, store people showed up around 5 pm. The new set was unpacked and the old one repacked. The exchange was quick and painless.
Now, I had to set it up. The driver warned not to turn it on for a couple of hours, as it had to acclimate to the temperature in the house, and warm up. Okay, not a problem and I watched a movie from Netflix on my iTouch.
Here’s why I had to do the exchange. The firmware, for the television, would not update or allow certain widgets to work, such as Netflix and Amazon Video “On Demand.” The new set worked fine and even updated itself. The day wasn’t totally wasted.
The lights slowly came back on through the day. By dinnertime, I felt much better. I have to call next week for the test results. Just think, in March I get to do this all over when I have the colonoscopy. That should be even more fun. Stay tuned for that story.
Now, I know why certain celebrities liked Propofol. It is fast acting. You don’t remember a damn thing. Dr. G turned off the lights.
Matt Seinberg lives on Long Island, a few minutes east of New York City. He looks at everything around him and notices much. Somewhat less cynical than dyed in the wool New Yorkers, Seinberg believes those who don't see what he does like reading about what he sees and what it means to him. Seinberg columns revel in the silly little things of life and laughter as well as much well-directed anger at inept, foolish public officials. Mostly, Seinberg writes for those who laugh easily at their own foibles as well as those of others.
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