The Procedure

The Procedure

Welcome to Christianity Oasis. This is The Procedure from our Sojourn With Luz Leigh Collection. We hope you enjoy this enlightening reading and it helps you on your own be-YOU-tiful Christian walk.

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Sojourn With Luz Leigh

The Procedure

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Written by Luz Leigh - 28 November 2007

Well, it's been over twenty-four hours since I had "the procedure." Still waiting for the surgeon's office to call and tell me the polyp that was found is indeed benign. But, let's go back a few hours.

The alarm on the clock is buzzing ... that annoying sound I detest. I turn it off, find my eyeglasses, and reach for the phone to call my son. He is usually good at waking up early, if he is to go deer hunting, but we decided last night it might be well for me to call him at 4:45 a.m. to be sure he was awake. His phone only rings twice; his voice his tells me I need not worry about his arriving at my home on time. He is already awake. You see, we have this plan. He will transport me to the nearby hospital, daughter will bring me home and the other son will stay with me should I need someone to spend the night with me following the procedure.

It is a family joke that maybe we should consider calling a friend to remain with me when I get home from the hospital because the instruction sheet provided by the hospital for day-surgery states "a responsible adult should be with you the first 6 hours after your procedure for your protection and safety." But, we decide that my daughter will have to be a stand-in responsible adult. After all, she is an adult, married with two children.

Before the morning sun has risen, we are on our way to the hospital. Few cars are on the road, weather is clear, but cold, so we make good time, arriving at 5:50 a.m. I had been told to be there at 6:00 a.m. We settle into the empty waiting room, talking about the paintings on the wall, and upon seeing one of the operating room nurses pass by, decide that I could have ridden to the hospital with her. After all, she lives only a couple blocks from me. I hope my son was just kidding about that.

A few minutes past 6:00 nurse Trebbie appears and calls me to the back to begin my preparation. She shows me to cubicle number two ... so that tells me there is already one patient with my doctor. There laying folded on the bed is my wardrobe for the morning; a gown, a pair of paper slippers and an oh, so cute paper hat. Trebbie tells me to put the gown on with the opening in the back and that I may keep my socks on if I would like. I would, because I remember how cold it is in the operating room.

After I am dressed in the outfit of the day, Trebbie helps me get some cover over me. Hey, they have a different type blanket from the ones that were here on my last visit two years ago. The ones before were pale blue; these are a light tan; look like denim, but they are warm. The nurse begins an IV and soon a bottle of drip (no, I don't know what it was, didn't ask) begins to make its way slowly into my body.

It seemed like a long wait, but actually it wasn't. Then the buzzer above my head sounded, signifying they were ready for me in the other room, down the hallway. A huge male orderly appears to help Trebbie move my bed. We wait with my bed against the wall in the hall as the lady, who was patient number one, is wheeled out.

Speaking of that lady; I had learned that she and her husband are members of my church. He sat patiently in the little waiting area just outside my cubicle that is marked off with a curtain that was opened or closed, depending on what state of undress I was in or what was taking place. I learned a few years ago when the doctors were searching for what turned out to be the cancer that was taking a toll on my body ... one sheds all modesty when entering a hospital or clinic for tests. So, I had not a problem with a man I hardly know sitting there, able to hear all that was taking place.

I have now been wheeled into position next to the monitor on which my insides will be televised and viewed by the doctor. I have had at least four of these procedures, and in the past I was asleep during this time, but I am awake, though not fully alert. Thinking I would be drifting off to sleep, I closed my eyes, but sleep did not come. So, I opened my eyes and watched as the little camera made its way through what looked like a tunnel of some sort. Odd. I never knew I looked like THAT inside.

After what seemed like a short time, my surgeon was finished and I was taken back to the "holding area." My son was there, the surgeon came for a brief visit to say a small polyp had been found. Not what I wanted to hear. I asked a dumb question: "Did you remove it?" Of course, he had. We were told that in a day or two the results from the lab would be back. This meant I would have that long to wait before I will know if the polyp is benign.

Now Trebbie is asking what I would like to drink; I chose water. Then I asked for some Sprite; not feeling exactly as pert as I would like to be feeling. After a few minutes she told me I could get dressed. My daughter has arrived with my chariot for the ride home. The orderly has again appeared; this time with a wheelchair which my son assumes is for him to ride in, with me pushing him.

My daughter leaves the area to bring the her vehicle to the front door while my son and the orderly argue over who will wheel me down the hallway. It was a friendly argument, orderly won.

As we drive away from the hospital, I note that the time is 8:30 a.m. Not bad.

I would like to say that I slept a lot once I was home, but I did not. I was hungry because the last solid food I had put into my body was some 38 hours prior. Daughter prepared me two slices of wheat toast and a glass of orange juice. I ate it slowly, remembering from past experiences one does not overload a very empty stomach.

So ends the saga of my biennial affair with the out patient area of the best hospital in this area.

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