Dispatches from the Welland County General Hospital: Day Two

Third Time’s the Charm

Dr. Kalvorkliancracker is my real doctor or so I’m of the impression. He’s a surgeon. He whisks back the curtain, dons a latex glove and instructs me to roll on my side.

Great. I make it 43 years without  this ordeal and now it’s three times in the space of two weeks. Three and counting. I sense him approaching from behind.

“Would you be more comfortable with the curtain closed?” I ask. There is plenty of foot-traffic about after all, who would probably all feel more comfortable.

“Oh, I always close the curtain,” says Dr. Kalvorklianbiscuit who then makes a sudden detour.

Yeah. Except when you forget.

There is no “I” in Esophagogastroduodenoscopy. But pretty much everything else.

All I can think of is food.

Food. Glorious food. I’ve had nothing to eat or drink but ice chips the last 24 hours. They did a scope of my G.I. tract to see if the bleeding is coming from my belly or not. What was it called? A gastrointestinoscopy? Probably not. But something like that. The belly looked good. Score one for the belly. They don’t even need to tell me where the next scope will be going. I presume that if it’s not one end, it’s the other.

Food is the Spice of Life. Especially Spicy Food

I’m still not allowed to eat or drink. Not even ice chips now. My last meal was popcorn. The young book club finished The Road so we watched the movie and covered our eyes during the gross parts. You can’t watch a movie without popcorn. It was shortly after that when the toilet bowl did it’s Red Sea impersonation and I took off for the nearest clinic.

Movin’ On Up

I have my own room now! Hurray! And I have it all to myself because the C-diff scare regulates that anyone suffering loose poopies be isolated just in case. My new day shift nurse is very gregarious. “Anything else I can get you!” she sings.

“Yes. Steak! And potatoes and wine!”

“Red or white?” she says. “I’m going for a beer after work. And chicken wings! Do you want some chicken wings!”

This effectively shuts me up. Score one for the nurse.

Shut it down! Shut them ALL down!

Why the hell is my arm so numb? Oh. R2D2 is taking my blood pressure. I didn’t even notice the cuff was still on. “Well go ahead R2. Take my blood pressure then. But don’t go getting a head full of ideas. Your kind will never take over the world. Those movies are metaphors. It’s that people are turning into robots. Or zombies. It’s the same with the zombie movies. Metaphors.” R2D2 does not respond to this. “Well? What’s my blood pressure?”  He still doesn’t respond. I’ve hurt his little feelings I guess. Silly droid.

Did anyone get the Star Wars reference in the title?

Interlude

Pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza!

Ohmygod I wantafucking pizza. I swear to fucking gord I’m gonna start shooting hostages until I get one.