I am back home from a morning trip to the hospital and a full day's work!
It is Friday night 10:52 p.m. and I had my CT Scan this morning.
I was surprised that the hospital rescheduled me so soon; I guess the scan-mechanics know their stuff! Didn't want to alert my family, although they wanted to know, as there just wasn't enough of a window.
So hit the bottle again last night…the bottle of Telebrix that is, which I guess helps the scanner to track the road map of my body!
Today I went to the hospital on my way to work. The worst part was the waiting room. I got there at 11 a.m. and everybody who came in after me, went ahead of me. I didn't get called in for nearly an hour.
Finally a nurse called me in. I was pacing by then and uptight as the receptionist had answered my earlier inquiry of "Have they forgotten about me?" with the statement, " Oh no, I checked and they have had a couple of emergencies." Since I was the only one waiting, could she not have said something, especially when she saw me pacing (and she did)?
Have you ever had the pleasure of changing into one of those polyester night gowns, putting your clothes in a bag, and then sitting in the waiting room with your skinny bare legs and feet (still in socks and shoes) hanging out, with a another group of fully clothed people?
Plus she gave me a cup of flat orange liquid and didn't ask, "Would you like a drink?" It was "Drink this and then they will call you in." But FIRST, she gave me an IV!
Then she informed me, "When they inject the inert iodine into your body, you will feel a hot rush and a tingling and itching all over, and you may think you are wetting your pants!"
Great...and just what I needed to hear.
(Note: My nurse's name was Angela, and I complained that the previous person who stuck a needle in me left me with a huge bruise. She gave me the IV and promised she would do her best not to bruise me. She kept her word. Thanks Angela!)
I had my hands up with fingers locked behind my head and the iodine rush going into my veins.
Going into the CT Scanner felt like a scene from Star Wars, or the Matrix...and half way in, my elbows got trapped in the cylinder. The technician was saying, "Sir, are you okay..." as I struggled to get my elbows out.
As my body was passed in and out of the Scanner, there was a recorded voice that sounded like Darth Vader's saying "Breathe IN" and then "Breathe"...which I assumed meant "Breathe out"!
The good news: At no time did I feel I was going to wet my pants!
3 comments:
Hi baba
There is really no excuse for treating patients like products on an assembly line. I remember asking one friend what kind of help medical staff receive to deal with all the things they have to deal with. She was a nurse and she told they were expected to 'suck it up'. I think that even now some 30 years later, not much has changed. There is no real teaching about compassionate care for either patients or people working in the field. It helps me to think of this world as a bit surreal, and remember to breathe it out literally with each breath.
Hi Ted,
Listened to your two songs on Eagalic Music Page. Nice to hear your songs and guitar playing. Destiny and another which I've already forgotten the name of. I guess it has been awhile since you have played though. My love and prayers are with you and thinking KAT SCAN is irony in real life situation considering our last name.
Have a nice weekend.
Bye now....
Love Dianne
xx/oo
Love Dianne
Dear Baba,
I've had several CT scans, but thank goodness I missed the burning iodine part. I did have to drink some awful tasting concoction once, very salty, for God knows what reason. So far the scans showed calcification in my brain (I always knew that!:-) but only a tiny 2mm area. Also calcified nodules on my lungs, which are probably the result of the years I spent as a smoker.
This one is more alarming and I do have breathing problems, but the specialist didn't seem too concerned, only scheduling me for another scan in February, to see if there are any changes. Yes, being wheeled into that tube is a bit like Star Wars. And the disembodied voice...
We're praying for you, my Brother, and I'm sure that you'll have the courage to face whatever happens. "This too shall pass," is what I say to myself, whenever trials challenge me.
I'll send you a short meditation exercise under separate cover, perhaps that will help.
Love,
Csaba
Post a Comment