Wednesday, February 1, 2017

Happy

So are we all ready for spring next month?

In October, when clocks are turned back I tend to clam up inside.  My feelings at the time are: for the next five months I need to find a happy place.  I need to hang on to the side of the ship so if the storms toss it around a bit I will stay put.

The days get short and the night gets long.  The gray skies seem never-ending.  Still, I look for happy.  I find it in the faces of my grandchildren.  Movies and popcorn.  New TV series where we watch three and four episodes a night.  A glass of wine with dinner.  Scented candles.  Halloween fun.  Thanksgiving gatherings.  Christmas joy.

And then, a new year rolls around.  January is cold and heartless, but the end is now in sight.

Which brings me to where we are now.  The first day of February.  The promise of spring and longer days.  Tomorrow that pesky old groundhog will say yay or nay for 6 more weeks of winter.  But in my heart, I hear the song of robins in the not so distant days ahead.  And I will likely not have to look far to find my happy.  It will be there when I open the blinds in the morning.

And Gracie, you too will be happy... right?

Yea.  Well, about that happy.  If you promise me a walk every day and double my treats... then I will be happy.  Whadda ya think?






Tuesday, January 31, 2017

First and Last

My philosophy has always been, if it's not broken don't fix it or if you are not having a problem, don't go looking for one.  The following procedure I did finally for my husband who has been bugging me to do this ever since I turned fifty (so many years ago).

I am usually a rule follower.  But this particular morning (Friday) of last week, I broke that tradition and I refused to finish this extremely nasty concoction in prep for my very first (and only) colonoscopy.  


Nothing but liquids the day before the procedure.

Then, 8 PM dose number # 1 of what I call THE POISON.

Gag. Burp. Yuck. Eww.  Blah.

I barely got it down.  But when I did, I felt as though it would not stay there.  After it settled, I started drinking the fluids.  40 oz to be exact.  Then I waited.

All HECK broke loose about two hours later and I felt as though a bomb exploded inside of me.  It was not a pretty sight.

No sleep was expected that night so you can imagine my delight to have nodded off for a good 45 minutes before urgency sent me flying to the john in those wee hours of the morning on Friday.

4 AM came.   I stared at the cup.  Part two of the prep.  The 5 ounces of POISON.  I sipped.  I gagged.  I chocked down another swallow.  I sipped some more.

I had heard that the prep was the worse part.  My doctor said it was a piece of cake, not to worry.  This, why I do not totally trust doctors.

I took another sip.  My stomach began to churn and bubble up.  I concluded that I was not going to be able to do this.  At that point I thought maybe I'd do what I refused to do earlier.  I googled.

"Don't take the stuff!"  "It made me violently ill!"  "I was sick for days..."  and the negative comments went on and on.

But still.  I had 4 oz left that I must finish and I better hurry because by 5 AM I needed to be finished the POISON and 24 oz more of water!

I felt like such a failure.  I wasn't even able to finish half.  I decided I'd call the surge center in the morning and let them know I just couldn't do it.  It seemed a shame since I was more than half way there.

No worries.  I guess I was prepped enough, which made me think...  the second dose of that POISON was over-kill...  and speaking of kill, I thought I'd die if I had to drink one more drop.

 At 8 AM the nurse blew a vein and tried again to get the needle in my hand to hook me up to the IV.  Finally success.  A talk with anistheseology and a brief waiting period and before you know it the team of nurses were telling me to roll onto my side and then everything faded.

I opened my eyes to good news.  I passed the test.  I was barely able to stand to dress but they shipped me out the door and I was soon home and the nightmare was behind me.


No nightmares for me.  Only sweet sleep.  Gracie.