Remember I drank one gallon of nasty junk in order to have a colonoscopy. My orders were to finish by 12 am Friday morning with the drink ["GoLightly" - yeah, right] and then take nothing by mouth until the 'oscopies later that morning.
Imagine my surprise when they scheduled the 'oscopies for 1 pm. 13 hours after I stopped eating [not so hard] and drinking - even water! - that is hard. My lips were splitting all over. Ouch.
So 1 pm comes and goes and I give up and start dozing in my bed, in my room. Transport shows up at 1:20 pm and wheels me down to surgery whereby I am duly introduced to not ONE but TWO anestesia people and asked if I had any questions and I did, and blah, blah, blah....' Get them answered and are told we are next just wait a minute or two.
Good to go! Or so we thought - seems I was actually scheduled for TWO FORTY FIVE instead so I was in surgery [freezing my ass off] for an hour and twenty five minutes while my stomach rumbled and my mouth bled. And my voice diminished from lack of liquids [the techs were glad of this little side effect, believe me]
Also instead of my original "Anesty"* people I was introduced to two news ones - and the one guy was such a pompous asshole I told him to shut up. Seriously - he began his dissertation to me with "I gave my very first anesty job in 1972 at 3:45 to an elderly man about to undergo"....SHUT UP! Believe me I was within my rights. [The only thing the guy confirmed with me at that point was he did his first job with anestesia when I was SIX years old and he probably needed to be retired already. But hey, thanks for the boost of geriatric confidence.
He did make up a bit with me by the drugs he was handing out - well now - he got so fed up with me he juiced a nice ol' shot of something in my IV and I started to chatter about - well, god knows what but at least I wasn't telling Opie to shut up anymore [he got his desired effect- let's just say.]
Next thing I know [and tadpoles we have to have a big 'ol discussion about what constitutes a nice way to wake up from a colonoscopy as so many of you remarked on] Anyway, the next thing I know I am being manhandled, flipped, pushed, shoved and poked into the next week. I was literally screaming Pooldad's name and the doctor [who is REALLY the one on my "Do not pass GO/GO directly to hell" list right now] told me that I could not have my husband in there since we would be discussing my medical condition and that other people in recovery could possibly hear and that would break HIPPA regulations. I told him that I didn't want Pooldad there to discuss anything I wanted him there for comfort [and at this point protection!] and to get him now please.
The doctor had the audacity to tell me that he was going out into the waiting room and tell Pooldad all about the procedures BEFORE talking to me and that Pooldad would know first. Well, no, no, no and a great big RESOUNDING NO! Pooldad and I have a deal where we hear all news such as this TOGETHER and at the SAME TIME - one doesn't get the info on the other first/or on themselves for that matter in the off chance it is something awful like Cancer or Hepatitis etc. Because then that person that was first [in this case Pooldad about ME] would have to sit through ME hearing it and he already would've known. Who wants that burden.
I told the doctor if he went near my husband before I was holding his hand to get the news together he was breaking my HIPPA rights and I would report him. And yes - I am reporting him tomorrow because he did exactly what I asked him NOT to. He told Pooldad without me there.
Okay, not a big deal to any of you - but in my wheel house it is HUGE and goes against everything I believe in and just makes that jerk doctor even more of an arrogant mess than he already was.
I was so pissed off at the lies, the later surgery appointment, the freaking manhandling that when I was returned to my room [lying in my own messes and stuff, yuck] I removed my own hospital gown, changed my sheets and put on warm street clothing because I was going to eat a TUNA FISH SANDWICH in peace and comfort. Doctors and rules be damned - I am rebel Skippy.
The sandwich had a lot of signigfigance in that I had been on a restricted menu since I had been admitted - first it was soft foods with no discernable taste, but I managed to choke it down because did I mention they were denying me liquids all week in an attempt to lower my fluid retention? Yeah - so for dinner I would get a ground up spicy asian meat dish over egg noodles with green beans [who can screw up fresh cut green beans? Obviously LIH!] with NO liquid. I don't know about you but I can't eat a meal without a beverage even if it is water. I haven't seen milk in so long I am starting to dream about Jersey cows.
Oh but he it got better because I had to drink the "Golightly" crap and then not eat or drink for 16 hours afterward. Niccccccccce. But as in all things Skippyland there was one final cut down of this insane story - after defying them and eating the sandwich the nice Dr. who is handling just about everything else [when anyone cares to tell her anything] told me I HAD to eat protein to keep my blood levels up and that I would no longer be on an all liquid diet that had started with the "Golightly" stage. Well color me pink and slap me stupid because the words were barely out of her mouth when dinner arrived - chicken broth, two orange juices, black jell-o and some parfait jell-0y thing that scared me -even the kids wouldn't touch it.
I calmly asked Pooldad to get a wheelchair [the hospital owns, maybe 7 wheelchairs? They are a hot commodity. It is pretty comical, but I digress] and I waved goodbye to my nice Dr. M and the whole family headed to..........
MCDONALD'S - where I proceeded to eat 1/2 an incorrectly made QP with cheese, plain, no bun, about 15 french fries and a chocolate milkshake. THANK.YOU.VERY.MUCH.
See, the point is how are we going to know if I eat protein [or even close to normal - you guys know how I eat/am fed by the family] it is going to keep my blood counts up and my swelling down? WE DON'T because the bozos wouldn't let me have normal menu food.
This is the story [that seems] to never end because here I sit without an IV, dress and ready to be discharged but I can't be discharged until they are sure I will eat lunch.
There is only one small problem. They won't give me anything to eat. They will happily serve me up anything I can slurp, slosh, lovingly slid over my gums in liquid form - but NOTHING solid.
Somehow I am in Hell and they aren't letting me in on the joke.
*Anesty - I get tired of typing the damn word. Hope this all made sense. I just want to go home. Sigh.