The Infirmary Called. It Wants Its Bandages Back.

The report from sick bay is in. Both Val and Mom survived their respective procedures today at the hospital.

As you may recall, Doctor scheduled Mom to come in on his day off to slice that growth off her face. He said he was doing us a favor to make it the same day as my repeat lung CAT scan. Never mind that I had been planning to drive Mom for her face-slicing, and she had been planning to drive me for my tranquilizer-enhanced CAT scan. We're the O. Henry pair of the medical procedure world.

I swooped by to pick her up in T-Hoe, leaving The Pony on Mom's short couch to soak up high-speed internet and eat donuts. Her appointment was at 10:00, so I went up the elevator with her when we got there at 9:30, and kept her entertained until I had to go back down to radiology for my 10:30 appointment. Mom signed in and sat down, but I insisted that she go peck on the window and make sure Doctor was actually there on his day off to slice and dice. "Oh, he's not here. Yes. He knows he's supposed to be here for you. But he's not here." No further explanation. Mom assumed they meant that Doctor was running late. She settled down a bit, but I could see that she was nervous. I hated to leave her there, but radioactive dye and a magnetic donut called to me. We agreed to meet downstairs in the radiology waiting area when we were done.

Then the conundrum. When to take my tranquilizer? Doctor had prescribed a tiny pill. Ten tiny pills, in fact. I must be in for more procedures. Anyhoo, he had told me to take one an hour before the procedure. Hmpf! I took a practice one a couple weeks ago, when I had an appointment with a specialist, and it started working in 10 minutes, and by the time one hour had passed, I was as sober as Carrie Nation. So at 10:15, I swallowed that tiny tablet of 0.5 mg of lorazepam. I was called to the desk for ID and insurance info. Then I waited. And waited. At 10:45 I was taken back to the magnetic donut room.

That was a bit shocking, because I thought I would be in a side room, or go to the lab for my IV needle. They have to shoot in saline, then radioactive dye. That's what they tell me. I don't look. The minute I recognized that magnetic donut room, I looked at the floor or the eyes of the IV inserter. Not at the magnetic donut. My anti-anxiety tiny pill had kicked in after eight minutes, and had now leveled out. I was able to refrain from running screaming from the room. I signed some papers. Laid down on that narrow metal bed that gets sucked into the donut. A technician put a pillow wedge under my knees for comfort. Told me to put my arms above my head (like I was going down a big water slide, I suppose), and to listen for the recorded lady's voice telling me what to do. Like inhale and hold it.

Then, horror of horrors, that narrow bed began to move! I did not remember that from my first time from the ER. My eyes were closed then, and now. I guess with the IV morphine and Ativan back then, I made myself believe that I just laid there and they got their results long-distance from that magnetic donut. I could sense that I was in it. Then it spit me out. The guy came and said the dye was being injected. Yeah. I felt that rush. Then I was sucked back in and told to take another breath and hold it. I could heard my heart pounding. Lucky for me these tests only last about one minute once they get the dye in and feed me to the donut. Whew! Free at last!

The IV gal removed my needle and fixed me up with gauze and that tight stretchy non-tape stuff. Look!

She used my favorite color without even asking. And not a drop of my thinned blood spilled! Glad that's over.

Next, I had to find Patient Records, so a copy of the results could be sent to my lung doctor at MoBap, even though he can access my records online. That meant I had to stand in the hall waiting for the patient ahead of me to send her records in private. I used that time to sober up from my little white pill. I had no sooner returned to the radiology area and sat down than Mom got off the elevator. We used our reunion to admire each other's bandages. She had a long beige bandaid stuck vertically in front of her left ear. We staggered back to T-Hoe, and picked up lunch for The Pony, and a frozen custard for ourselves.

Next medical visit for me? Monday. Two of them. For Mom, Tuesday to get her stitches out.

This has not been the Summer of Val that I had hoped for. But at least I'm still here to complain.