Saturday Morning Fun

I wanted to post an in depth blog about the gastroscopy I had performed on me Saturday but unfortunately the sedative worked too well and I don’t really remember much of what happened. I even had a conversation with my wife after the procedure in which I seemed quite alert but I had forgotten all about it until I was reminded of it Sunday. I still don’t remember receiving the discharge instructions.

Here are the highlights. I had to lie in a bed and wait for the doctor while he and the nurses took a break (in itself it is not too bad, I would rather have a rested doctor dealing with me then a tired one, but I didn’t know exactly what to expect from the procedure so I was getting nervous and as Tom Petty says ‘waiting is the hardest part’). Lucky for me there was a guy there who had finished his test and was waiting to go home and felt the need to talk. It turned out to be good for me though because he gave me some insight and I knew what to expect, at least somewhat.

Around 10:30 a nurse came and took me to the room the gastroscopy was to take place. She gave me an oxygen tube, which I made full use of (in through the nose, out through the mouth...inhale....exhale). Then my doctor came in, played the role of the concerned doctor, explained the procedure to me, and then slipped something into my iv. The last thing I remember was being asked to turn onto my side before I got too dopey (to which I replied I think I’m halfway there) and the doc slipped more sedative into my iv.

I do not recall any of the actual procedure but I do remember gagging 3 times, possibly even 4 times, then I was being wheeled out of the room. I was quite groggy for a bit after but I do remember the nurse took my blood pressure and said I could put my clothes back on. I remember asking the nurse if I could get some of those drugs to take home (unfortunately she said no) but totally forgot about the discharge instructions until I was reminded yesterday. I apparently also joked with my wife that as part of the instructions I could not drink and drive for 24 hours.

The usually mundane task of dressing myself seemed to be quite a challenge for me. It wasn’t the act of putting my shirt on that troubled me but rather the art of standing seemed to give me great difficulties. When I finally decided it was time to leave, I wobbled and swayed like a drunken idiot, out of the hospital and to the car, relying on my wife to keep me upright.

All in all it was not a horrible way to spend a Saturday morning but now I have the daunting task of waiting (almost a month) to find out if this test revealed any answers.