Sunday, October 19, 2014


                                                      Praise Propofol

     Based on my recent comments about modesty, a concept that disappeared with VCRs and landlines, I must relate my experience at the endoscopy center last week.

      Let me first say, I will never again, that’s n - e - v - e - r drink a drop of Gatorade. Secondly, I will be sure not to make eye contact with any health care workers in a health care facility. Finally, I will take my I-pod along so I cannot hear the conversations of other patients waiting in their half-draped cubicles.

     “Shall I take off my drawers?” I hear the 20-something guy say across the aisle. I look away visualizing what I could have seen for myself, Lord forbid. Who was I to talk? I jumped out from under my baked blanket and over the raised metal railing of my operating cart, grabbing the glucose bag in one hand and holding my gown shut with the other. I kept my eyes floor-ward as I raced to the facility. Whew.

     In the operating room, a nice tech assistant cuddles up to my cart and says, “So what do you do, Miss?” omg. I do not want to discuss my personal life while I am in this compromised position. Praying that the propofol kicks in quickly, I mutter, “I’m a humorist.” A confused look on his big round face, he says, “What’s that?” “Come on drugs,” I think. “Kick in. Kick in.” Short story, long--he will buy my books on Amazon.
Good night, world.

     The following day, I wake up with an orange-carbonated-propofol hangover. Bonus:  a runny nose. I never blow my nose. I rarely sneeze, and if I do, it’s a minimum of 15 times. So a runny nose is a new phenomenon for me. wtf. How can I be perfectly healthy one day, and after a simple procedure wake up bloated like the Goodyear blimp, wiping my chin?  I resisted the temptation to call the doctor. “Wait until tomorrow. Tough it out.” 

     In the meantime, I make the mistake of going online to check out the post-op symptoms. Seventy-four people wrote in that they had runny noses that lasted at least four to six months. Joy. Others commented that their digestive tracks did not recover for at least six weeks. omg. Shoot me now.

    Three days post-op, I am just fine, tyvm. My doctor is a saint, and I have sent a thank you to Puffs for getting me through another life crisis.