Saturday, July 19, 2008

Medical procedures and memory loss... okay, weird blog

I had the strangest experience this week. Oh, it's no different than what thousands, no millions of people have done, but it was new for me, so okay, it's bloggable. I feel like lately I've been run through the medical mill. Not that there is anything physically wrong with me, it is that all of these followups and checkups all came within a span of a few weeks. Partly, this is due to the fact that I travel a lot so I try to squeeze these things in while I'm grounded -- that usually happens during the summer and Christmas break. (my travel schedule mostly revolves around a school calendar year)

Anyhoo, there's been a mammogram, an ultrasound and even a biopsy (which thankfully came out fine), there's been the annual checkup with the primary doc which involved bloodwork (I have deep veins and yes, there are bruises). Then the dentist (no cavities, thank you very much) and then this week, the dreaded...colonoscopy. Yes, I said it out loud. Ugh. Double ugh. Triple, quadruple, ugh.

Okay, so here's the deal folks. It's not really that bad. The prep day is a nuisance but the actual procedure, not bad-- UNLESS YOU WAKE UP IN THE MIDDLE OF IT! I think it was only for a couple of seconds and I guess they put me back under really quick, but I do remember, and I do remember it HURT, and I do remember the nurse saying, "it's almost over." And my tummy hurts today. Wah...

But here is the weird part. I lost most of a day. Evidently they give you some kind of narcotic (I really want to know the name of it because I think it has potential use in a book someday) that makes you lose short term memory. They said that it would. But it is the strangest darn experience. I have just snatches of memory of my life from the time I entered the hospital at 7 a.m. until about 3:30 that afternoon. I remember putting on my shoes. Don't remember putting on my clothes to come home. I woke up at one point on my couch, convinced that I had left my clothes back at the hospital, until I looked down and realized, "oh, I'm wearing my clothes." I remember my friend waiting in her car at the hospital door, but I don't remember being rolled down the hallway to get to the car. I recall opening my eyes on the drive home and saying, "Oh, there is the Hurstbourne exit" but do not remember anything else about the drive home.

Evidently, according to the doctor, I need more fiber in the diet. Okay, no prob. But according to my friend, I relayed this entire big story about my sister and Metamucil and how she'd gotten me hooked on it when she came to visit, and now I take it three times a day. Which is, of course, not true. I have no recollection of telling this story. None.

I know my friend brought me home and I remember her saying something about getting me water, but that's it. Flash forward to about 3:30 in the afternoon where I wake from a deep, groggy, sleep. The entire evening was a haze. Did I eat? Not sure. I think maybe I even cooked something on the grill. Maybe....

So, okay, I keep thinking, I gotta write this drug into a story sometime. I will never forget how it felt and how perfect for a kidnapping! Well, anyway....

It's Saturday morning and the day will be full. Double birthday party in the afternoon at my ex's (lucky we get along, but we're divorced, right? no reason not to) for two of the grandkids and my parents are coming for a visit. So, things to do, things to do....

Have a great weekend.

maddie
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