school drop-offs and pick-ups for a colonoscopy (family history=early
First things first. The transport guy, my newest BFF, witnessed me
ordering St. Joel to "Shut up!" in the elevator after he tried to
reassure me that, "It will all be over in a couple hours."
I was quite insecure in my backless gown in front of the medical tech,
aka "Cute Little Boy", my drug induced name for him. The nurses told
me (I asked) he was 28. Looked not a day over 19. More tennis pro than
I had serious doubts about "Chris Kattan", the nurse anesthetist (is
that even a real word?) until he put propofol into my IV. Just
chatting away, then my eyes went completely black. Asleep in a matter
of seconds. A certain pop star might have been onto something, in
theory. A diluted pill version would be genius.
By St. Joel's account, waking up from the miracle drug was full of
memorable moments. My first audible words, "Michael Jackson." Then
of course, I said to my doctor, "Tell me I'm beautiful." Doesn't
everyone? The post-show wrapped with the doctor describing my
"Unusually curvy colon."
The best part, when someone asked, "Why are you all gathered in
here?" My team explained, "She's entertaining!"
All in all everything went well. It was not nearly as bad as I had
imagined. And maybe, just maybe, I livened up an otherwise typical
Tuesday at the office.
Another day, another story,