A Nice Little Nap

We’re just going to give you a really nice little nap.

The man speaking was wearing hospital scrubs. In fact, I was in a hospital. And he was a doctor. And he was late.

I’m really sorry for making you late. I got held up at the ICU.

That’s no problem.

Well, it’s nice of you to say that.

I mean, were you off plaing golf, or were you saving someone’s life?

. . .ah. . .the latter. I don’t even know any doctors that play golf. Not sure where that rumor came from.

I’d been avoiding this day for as long as I could. I’ve recently struggled with general anxiety. As part of talking to my doctor about anxiety, she constantly pointed out that I was now older than 50.

The dreaded “c” word: colonoscopy, not cancer, fortunately.

As a kid I had Crohn’s disease. It’s a lower bowel disease. I endured many, many uncomfortable exams. As a 15 year old self-conscious young man those exams were humiliating. Fortunately, they were successful. The treatment I received through my teen years meant that as an adult the Crohn’s was in complete remission.

But, the memory lingered on. As my doctor pressured me to have the procedure, my thoughts returned to those awkward appointments fourty years ago.

Well, they put you to sleep.

Excuse me?

Yeah, during the procedure, you’re out the entire time.

Oh. . .

So, here I was. Prepped and prepared. I hate needles. While I put the IV in, I not only look away, I “think away.” I mentally distract myself.

The doctor, despite showing up late, was calm and even jovial.

I always tell people three things to remember after the procedure: Don’t drive, don’t drink any alcohol and don’t make any financial decisions for at least 24 hours.

Well, my wife drove, I don’t drink and she makes all the financial decisions, so I think I’ll be fine. So, how many of these have you done?

About 12,000. Don’t worry about a thing. We’re going to give you a nice nap.

They had me roll onto my left side and get comfortable. The sleepy gas was supposed to work in about 40 seconds. It was weird because it never seemed to kick in at all. Instead, they were telling me to roll back on my back.

And I wasn’t in the operating room anymore.

And the clocks were all wrong. And it was time to get dressed and go home.

Oh, the pictures didn’t show any signs for concern. But, the doctor wants me to come back next year, just in case.

Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.

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