Every Six Years
I didn’t work last Thursday, not in my construction life or at Your Daily Fiber. Not that I’m lazy or anything like that, I just needed a day off. In most cases, when I take a day off from work, it is usually a bucket-list occasion or something of equal magnitude. Thursday, I would have preferred to have worked.
Due to my family history (so they say) I am sentenced to a lifetime of medical procedures that frankly, are kind of unpleasant. They tell me, I need to do this because of your parents, but do we really know? Could it be there could really be doctors that want to charge large fees to do weird things to patients?
Six weeks or so I received a letter in the mail, informing me to plan for a day off. I knew from the return address what the letter was going to say. I didn’t need to open it. Elaine, on the other hand, needed to open it. I’m sure, giving her the benefit of the doubt, she thought it was addressed to the store; Your Daily Fiber.
This letter always arrives four to six weeks early to allow for plenty of time to think about, worry about, and plan for your day off. I can’t say for sure, but Elaine seemed a little gleeful when she said. “I’ll confirm your appointment.” She might have looked a little too happy when she came back to share, “It’s April 22nd, your appointment is April 22nd. You need to tell your bosses.” I said, “You and Ivy are my bosses, go tell yourselves.”
Some of you might know but this medical procedure not only was going to make April 22nd, miserable; April 21st was going to be worse. Last Monday, the misery was in full force. Elaine laid the letter next to my computer. I had to read the letter.
The letter informed me of what I should have been eating for the last week. I didn’t need a letter telling me any of that, I had two of these before, plus who could eat knowing THIS was coming? What information I did need from the letter was where to be and when. My worry went on steroids.
I needed to pick up a prescription at my pharmacy by 4:00 PM on April 21st. You might find it interesting; the pharmacy is located across the street from and very near the old brick and mortar, Your Daily Fiber.
The horror began when the pharmacist said, “That will be $87.00.” Eighty-seven dollars for something you don’t want, nobody does. I refuse to get graphic here, but needless to say, the evening of April 21st was horrible. If I have brought up horrible images for you, try to imagine skeins of multi-colored Malabrigo yarns, which incidentally can be purchased online from Your Daily Fiber. I made it through the 21st.
The letter informed me I would need a designated driver after my procedure on the 22nd. Elaine volunteered for the job as she had for all of my previous procedures. This will take a turn in the next few paragraphs.
Elaine had been fighting and losing to a sinus infection. She had scheduled an appointment for the sinus infection at the same time with the doctor at the same time as my procedure. Enter the dreaded beervirus.
Elaine’s appointment was changed to virtual. Now, I’m not sure what can be accomplished in a virtual appointment except for having another opportunity for a doctor to invoice your/our insurance. Elaine had let the infection get to a point where she needed to be seen. The doctor’s office insisted on a virtual visit prior to being seen due to beervirus. As confusing as it is, beervirus is confirmed by virtual visits. I asked if my procedure could be virtual. No, was the answer to that question. I was told that a short video of my procedure would be available. If anyone is interested, contact me directly.
In my previous procedures, Elaine was allowed in the pre-procedure room. It never failed while I was getting ready to be violated, Elaine would be in the room knitting. Without fail, a nurse would come in and Ol’ Monner would be forgotten and the conversation would switch to what the nurse had on her needles, the brand of yarns available at Your Daily Fiber, and the heirloom knitting everyone’s Grandmother had done when we were kids.
I'm not sure what happened after that. I was shoved down the hall to the procedure room and I believe Elaine went to a waiting room. Not this time. Due to beervirus, Elaine was not allowed in the pre-procedure room. She was told to wait in the car. She showed ‘em. She didn’t go to the car; she went to urgent care to deal with her sinuses. More later.
Alone in the procedure, lying on my gurney, a nurse informed me the anesthesiologist would be in to discuss the procedure and my meds. The nurse was correct, the anesthesiologist entered the room. Now I realize I have gotten a little older, but judging from what I could see of the top one-third of this person’s face, I was now speaking with a fifteen-to twenty-one-year-old female. The questions and then the lecture started. She seemed very caring and nice. OK, she didn’t seem; she was caring and nice.
Young doc: Blah, Blah, Blah, Have you had a cough. Me: I always cough. Young doc: Why is that? Me: They tell me it a side effect of my meds. Young doc: They need to change your meds.
For the next twenty minutes, I was given enough information to test for a pharmaceutical degree. I’m not kidding. I will be changing meds after I take the test.
I was introduced to an anesthesiologist’s nurse. A tall young man, who shove my gurney into the room. THAT ROOM! Six weeks of horror were about to come to an end. An end, get it!
The young anesthesiologist’s nurse was very chatty. I think his chattiness was to put the patient at ease. The patient was me. I must say the conversation got a little weird. Another nurse came into the room. With me lying on my left side, naked to the back, one of the nurses said, “You have fantastic hair and a beard.” I was aware of that, so I just thanked him.
In walks the doctor, that doctor. I have this procedure a couple of times before so I recognized him immediately. He happens to be a friend of a friend so I know quite a bit about him. He has a sense of humor.
That doc: You doing, OK? Me: Yes Doc: (grinning) Did you enjoy last night? Me: Every bit of it.
I can only guess what happened next. I woke up in the procedure room from an extremely cold sensation on my (construction language) or backside. I yelled out, “Hey, someone is playing with my butt.” I should be embarrassed, but somehow, I think that is kind of funny. It makes me wonder what I said when I was totally out.
I was sent back to the pre-procedure room told, “Get dressed. Elaine has been called, and is waiting for you in the car at the front door.”
Getting into the car, I could see the sinus infection had the best of Elaine. I said, “Looks like I’m driving, huh?”
Elaine: Do you think you can? Me: Let me drive. Elaine: Can we stop at the pharmacy? Me: I haven’t eaten in almost forty-eight hours, and I’m not hungry. After the pharmacy let’s go home.
I hope this story encourages you to buy yarn. This beervirus will be over someday and there is a nurse out there that wants to know what’s on your needles.
God Bless you! Get tested when it's time.
Our crazy lives!