Clean Bill Of Health

The colonoscopy went very well. The doctor said everything was normal and that he found no polyps. I'm very relieved given that my grandfather died young from colon cancer. Now that it's "behind" me, I'll tell you how it all went down here in France.

The clouds clearing out last Sunday after the storm passed over.

The preparation, as many of you told me, was worse than the actual procedure. Even so, the only part that was uncomfortable was the constant running back and forth to the toilet. I took two small bottles of something called Fleet (the enema people) Phospho-soda mixed in a large glass of water. A little salty, but not too bad. Then I had to drink a lot of water. I did this once the night before and again in the morning, before 8:00 am.

I took my anti-germ shower and got dressed and Ken drove me up to the clinic, about forty-five minutes north of here. By this time, the second worst part of the procedure kicked in: nervous anticipation. I'm kind of squeamish about hospitals and needles and all that. So my heart was in my stomach the whole way.

I checked in and they put me in a double room (even though I had requested the cubicle) with a young guy who was pretty much asleep when we got there. It was about 12:15, and the nurse told me that I was scheduled to go into the bloc (the operating room) at 2:15 pm. Once Ken left, I got into my little (and I mean little) paper gown and got into bed. A nurse came by to take my temperature (normal) and my blood pressure (elevated at 150/90). I told her I was just a little nervous and she said that's normal, and she gave me a tiny little pill to calm me down. I never really felt it kick in. She asked me a battery of questions: was the preparation ok? Yes. Did I take my anti-germ shower? Yes. Am I allergic to any medications? No. Am I wearing any jewelry, hearing aids, or contact lenses? No.

The guy next to me eventually woke up when they brought him some food. He looked at it and told them he couldn't eat it since he was on a fiber-free diet. The woman took it back and brought him some pasta, which he then ate. His doctor came in and they talked a bit. Apparently he has digestive problems that they're trying to figure out and the doctor told him there was nothing wrong in the colon, so the mystery lingers. We talked for a little while after the doctor left. Turned out he's a university student in Orléans, studying music. He plays the trombone. Or the paper clip (they're the same word in French), but I assume it's the former and not the latter.

At the appointed time two orderlies came in to wheel me away. It's a strange feeling, that, watching the ceilings go by as you're being whisked down corridors and through doors.

We arrived at the bloc opératoire and they parked me inside. A woman came by and put a paper hair net on me, then attached little patches for the heart monitor to my chest. She asked me to move onto another bed, then she wrapped the sheets around me and put a new blanket over me. She asked me all same questions that the nurse asked me five minutes before. Prep ok, shower ok, allergies no, and no jewelry, hearing aids, or contacts. Then they wheeled me to the pre-anesthesia station.

There, my anesthetist introduced himself and inserted the catheter into my arm. While doing this he asked all the questions again. Prep, check. Shower, check. Allergies, check. Jewelry, hearing aids, contacts, check. Then they wheeled me into the operating room (I could tell it was the operating room because of that fancy light fixture above my head, and there was my doctor). Monsieur le docteur had a funny smile on his face as he said hello. "You're not too sad about the Canadians beating the Americans in hockey are you" he asked? Not at all, I said. At least I knew that he knew who I was. Then they moved me over to yet another bed. The nurses were busy fitting me with a blood pressure cuff, attaching the electrodes, an oxygen mask, and a pulse monitor.

"So, what do you do here in France," the doctor asked? I'm retired, I said. He and the nurses all said "Wow!" and then "How do you retire at such a young age?" I said I would tell them my secret after I woke up. Chuckles all around.

The anesthetist said they were going to start me off with a little drip at first and then it would be bonne nuit (good night). Then the room started moving and it was kind of funky. This was my favorite part.

Almost instantly, at least from my perspective, I woke up in recovery. A nurse said hello and asked how I felt. Fine, I said. I raised my head and looked around the room a bit. I saw a clock on the wall that said 3:30, but I must have gone back to sleep pretty quickly. I remember being wheeled through the corridors again, then I was back in my room. The trombonist was gone; he was going to be released at 3:00.

It wasn't long before a nurse came in to take my blood pressure again. This time is was 120/70; must have been the effects of the anesthesia. I was quite relaxed. Normally, at my doctor's office, it's 130/80. Next, another person came in with some food. Boy was I hungry! They gave me a plate of grated carrots, sliced tomatoes, cucumber, boiled potato and a hard boiled egg with vinaigrette dressing and two nice slices of ham. There was a small baguette, a hunk of blue cheese, and little custard dessert with sliced almonds on top. And a carafe of water. The plate was china and the glass was a wine glass. Alas, no wine in hospital. I ate it all. While I was finishing, my doctor came in.

He was all smiles and said that everything went well, all was normal, and that he found no polyps. He told be to come back again in five years. Then Ken came in to take me home.

We were there for about twenty minutes before another nurse came in to give me my walking papers and to remove the catheter from my arm. At that point I got dressed and we checked out. I was feeling great until I stood up, then I realized I was still woozy from the anesthesia.

That evening I dozed on the couch in front of the tv, and slept very well through the night. Now we're all back to normal and I'm very happy that it's all over. At least until 2015.