Flat Tire

I seem to be in a more forthright mood than I have been for a while.  You needn't read this.  It's perhaps a bit indelicate.  But I'm tired of keeping it inside.  And, frankly, I'm a little bit scared.  I have to get a colonoscopy on Monday.  I'm bleeding.  Have been for a few months.  It's not clear why.  It's probably nothing serious.  But it's not nothing.  People don't just bleed, you know? 

The specialist doctor was good, smart, not alarmist, but firm.  I was wheedling with him a little bit.  I'm fine, I feel great.  I feel really healthy.  Can't this wait until I have an income?  Is there something less expensive we could do instead?  I'm not dismissive of my health, but time and money are factors for me.  I'm basically uninsured.  He said, no, we can't wait any longer.  We need to look.  Do you want me to scare you?  I can scare you into this if you make me.  He did, a bit.  Not too much, but just enough. 

So I'm getting it done. Thinking about it makes me tired.  Not anxious scared, just full of a weary low grade dread, a sense of a certain unpleasantness.  I feel old.  And I feel lonely, all alone in my life.  I wish I had a partner at times like this.  The doctor lectured me a little bit.  When was the last time you had your cholesterol checked?  Um, I don't know if I've ever had it checked.  What?  When was the last time you had blood drawn?  I don't know.  I don't think I've needed it drawn.  He said, "Look, Sherry, you're 32 now.  You need to tend to yourself."  It made tears well up in my eyes.  I'm sure my cholesterol is low.  I eat oatmeal and oat bran six days a week, for heaven's sake.   Nothing is wrong with me.  I feel fine.  I am healthier than I've been in a long time. 

Except that I'm not, maybe. 

Making the arrangements with the scheduling nurse I had her in stitches.  I wasn't trying to be funny, but I was joking around with her as I tend to do.  I kept making faces as she explained the procedure to me.  The procedure, if you're not familiar with it, sounds like it sucks.  The day before you can't eat anything.  The day of, you can't eat anything, and you need to get someone to drive you home, and you can't plan to do anything that requires you to have a brain because you'll be sedated and dumb.  So I was asking a lot of questions while thinking about when to schedule it, and making a lot of faces because I didn't like the answers.  I really can't eat anything?  You can have clear liquids.  Can I have beer?  I was thinking about the ACC tournament finals; I'll be watching them on Sunday.  I need to know whether I can drink beer.  The nurse fell apart with peals of laughter at that.  No, I'm serious, can I have a beer?  She went to get the doctor.  The doctor, who likes me but was pretending to be exasperated with me, said, yes, I could have as much beer as I wanted, and I could even have vodka, but no screwdrivers.  Vodka okay, orange juice not cool.  The nurse kept making jokes about me drinking beers during the operation.  She thought I was the funniest patient ever.  That's because all your other patients are old, right?  Yes, she said.  You're a lot younger than we usually get around here.  Great.  I'm a tragic example of youth cut short and you're toying with me.  They were very nice.  They do what they can to help people who are paying out of pocket.  I've learned a lot about the crazy health care system in this country, being uninsured and trying to manage costs while trying to take care of myself.  I've been surprised at how much doctors blame lawyers. 

Anyway, now I'm rambling.  But today I guess I am feeling a little more fragile than usual.  I'm feeling alone.  Probably that's because I choose not to talk about this stuff.  It feels somehow ill-mannered to discuss it with anyone.  It is indelicate, in the first place, and in the second place it's scary.  Better not to burden folks with it.  I'm shelling out what seems like an absurd amount of money, when I am already feeling pretty poor, to have a very unpleasant experience.  My frugal self thinks, "they'd better find something, or this won't be worth it."  Of course, I don't want them to find anything.  95% of me is confident that they won't.  5% of me is a scared little girl, arms wrapped around her knees, rocking back and forth in the corner and singing lullabyes to herself while tears leak out the sides of her eyes. 

So I have this kind of shaky day and then I go to have drinks with my family and am scheduled later to meet some friends.  While with my family I get a phone call; it's my visiting friend, stranded at the airport due to a cancelled flight.  Can I come pick him up?  Okay.  I'll be right there.  I am headed toward him.  A skunk is walking in the road.  I swerve around it and think, "that would have been a nasty experience.  Good thing I have sharp eyes."  As I pulled back into my lane, heading upward onto a bridge abutment, I hit a big pothole.  Hard.  I blinked a couple of times and noticed the car was pulling funny.  Oh crap.  I pulled over.  Flat tire.  And I just felt totally helpless.  I wanted to crumple.  Please, somebody, take care of me.  I can't seem to take care of myself.  I called a friend and dispatched him to the airport to collect my stranded friend.  I called another friend to come help me change the tire.  I should know how to do this but I don't.  Just then my dad, who'd been visiting my grandmother and aunt with me earlier, drove by, saw me, and stopped.  I'd forgotten that he was so close by.  He changed the tire for me -- I did helpful things like loosen some lugnuts and hold the flashlight.  It turned out not to be so bad.  But for a little while there, standing in the cold darkness trying to figure out how to pick up my friend at the airport, and who I knew who wouldn't mind helping me change a tire, I just felt so tired and small and overwhelmed. 

Comments

[kristine]

Ah, Sherry, I feel for you. My very best friend had similar health problems while we were roommates, and watching her struggle with it was so hard. (She also struggled and struggles with some of the insurance issues, but manages.) Try not to be alone after your procedure—have family there if you can—and listen to your doctor. And to your heart. And there will be many people thinking of you.

[Lynne]

I'm proud of you for doing this. We're with you in spirit. Trust that you are strong enough. (PS You can still be strong and shed a tear. It's your party and you can cry if you want to! PPS Waterproof mascara helps at times like these).

[Julie]

Hey, Sherry, I turned teary-eyed reading your post. Thanks for sharing. Our family understands the scariness of the medical unknown, the rituals of colonoscopy for the young and the importance of health insurance. Wish I could be there to help change your flat tire, or at least give you a hug. :-) I'll be thinking of you and praying for you...

[Dan Anderson]

Sherry, my prayers will be with you. I had my first colonoscopy two weeks ago (I've had two flex sigs, which are a lot worse because they don't sedate you) and possibly saved my life because the doc removed 8 polyops. Now I am an advocate for any and all preventive medical procedures. Unfortunately, my doc didn't even hint that I could drink the day before, it would have made the prepping a lot more fun. My discharge instructions included a warning that I shouldn't make any legal decisions for the balance of the day, that put a crimp in my day job. Good luck.

[Bertie]

Put up a paypal link. No sense in letting money be an obstacle to healthcare.

-B

[Bertie]

Put up a paypal link. No sense in letting money be an obstacle to healthcare.

I pay my mother in law's healthcare, whom neither my wife nor I particularly like. Happy to help someone I _do_ like.

-B

[yeoman]

Well, that is scary, but I'm confident it will come out alright. I'm sure more than one of us will include you in a prayer for speedy recovery, and keep you in our thoughts.

We'll count on you to let us know how things went.

[Ms. Feverish]

Chin up gal. These procedures aren't much fun, but if its helpful, they are the diagnostic gold standard. Both my sis and a grad school friend have had one in the past few months. Hopefully once its over, you'll really have a good idea about what is going on or not.

Thinking of you...

[Denise]

I'm thinking of you, Sherry. I am confident you will come through it with "flying colors" as they say and, moreover, they will discover what has been causing the bleeding and get that healed.

I had an sigmoid colonectomy 3 years ago and it was very scary (my colon had ruptured and they thought I might die). I spent 9 days in the hospital after emergency surgery and now have a lovely scar across my lower belly (I tell people it's my hysterectomy scar).

So, it's better to be safe, as you're doing than to run the risk of something terrible.

I'm sending good energy and positive thoughts (prayers!) to you.

There are a lot of people, people you don't even know, who care about you, who are wishing you well and maybe even are willing to help. You're in my prayers, at least.

I can empathize with feeling like it would be nice to have someone help you take care of you, to help you work through things. I suppose the best parts of moments like that is realizing that's exactly what you have. It seems like you do a whole lot of things for a whole lot of people. I hope you know when to ask for help and take it.

You are an amazing and inspiring person. Best wishes.

[Ellen]

Sherry - Sorry I won't be here Monday to give you a ride home and hang out with you! I had a colonoscopy a few years ago, when I was alone. Unpleasant but not unbearable. Amazing how things can change in the course of a year or two.

All the preceding comments are true about how wonderful you are and how much you give. Thanks for all you do to brighten the lives of your extended family and various and sundry other folk - nurses, doctors, etc.!

Much love to you - you'll be in my prayers between now and Monday.

[sidhra]

Whose tune was it anyway, the one that goes "I'll fix yer flat tire Merle?". Let your Doc set you right, so you can get to be really old. Julia Child used to say after a culinary faux pas that you're alone in the kitchen. At least here, your not. My thoughts, prayers are with you, as are those of folks you may not know. Go ahead and have a beer.

[Hal O'Brien]

Regarding the empty stomach -- what that most likely means is they expect to put you under a general anesthesia. The most common complication to a general is the patient throwing up. Vomitus, breathing, and unconsciousness do not mix well together (are you old enough to remember Keith Moon?). Take this into consideration.

Other than that... Please be well, Sherry. Indelicate or not, I don't care.

To quote Amy Tan, "This feather may look worthless, but it comes from afar and carries with it all my good intentions."

[Julie]

Another blogger I read just had a colonoscopy this week and described her experience. I thought I'd return here and post the link in case it would be helpful to you: http://tinyurl.com/6tovy
Will be thinking of you...

[mj]

See, what nobody will tell you is that the 24 hours before the procedure are far more uncomfortable than the actual colonoscopy. At least for those of us who like to eat... By the time I had the actual thing done, I was so dehydrated & drugged that I didn't care about anything anymore. I was about 26 & single when I had it done and I was so out of it, I gladly welcomed a gaggle of cure interns who were on rounds to gather 'round. Any sense of modesty was out the window - I would have sold my soul for juice at that point. Don't worry, the lack of food & anticipation are the worst part.