Health Humor

Isn’t a healthy body a wonderful gift from God? The past six weeks I have had the privilege of taking advantage of today’s medical technology to eliminate some suspicious findings discovered during my yearly exam. Thankfully, everything has turned out benign. I would like to share some of the more humorous medical experiences, but don’t worry, it will be done tastefully with a minimum of boring details.

During one procedure that needed to be accomplished while I was in a very uncomfortable position, the doctor was had a great deal of difficulty attempting to attach something to me. By the time he started over with the third cold instrument, I was unable to stop myself from confessing to him that at that moment, I hated him even more than I hate my dentist. (I’m sure my brother Mr. Iced Tea Forever will find that incomprehensible.) He was very understanding and pointed out at that at least I didn’t have to listen to any whining equipment and I was able to speak. "In fact, you can even swear if you want to," he declared. To which I regretfully replied, "Unfortunately, I’m not a swearing woman." He said he was going to start swearing if he wasn’t successful soon. I was just about to cover my ears when at last he accomplished his task.

When I had a breast biopsy (what a nasty long needle!), I was able to keep my mouth shut and not tell Nurse Cold Hands that I firmly believe warm-handedness should be a job requirement in her particular line of work. As I was lying there face down, she and the doctor kept asking me how I was doing. I got bored with saying "fine" and finally responded with "Fine, except I’m starting to drool." What? So I repeated it. They still didn’t understand, so Nurse Cold Hands came around to the other side, peered down and me and asked, "What did you say?" I enunciated as clearly as I could with the side of my face pressed flat, "Never mind, it was an attempt at drool humor!" I obviously need more practice keeping my mouth shut! Later that day as I was taking Nick to basketball practice and a bit preoccupied with the pain I was feeling, I meant to say "Ok, sweetie pie" but somehow what came out was "Ok, sweetie boob"! He nearly fell out of the car hysterically laughing.

And to wrap it all up, last Friday I had my ringed esophageal stricture stretched for the third time in the past 10 years. (I have some gorgeous colored pictures I could share here but perhaps they go beyond the limits of good taste.) I was hoping that maybe my brother Doug would be willing to go out to dinner with me again if he didn’t have to worry about a repeat of the last time we were at Izzy’s about a year ago, (just me and him and our kids because our spouses were both busy) when a piece of meat got stuck. I optimistically took a big drink of Pepsi to wash it down and the Pepsi promptly came back up all over the table. Then he had to wait nervously at the table while I spent a long time in the restroom with my Pepsi, and everyone who went in there probably thought I was bulimic.

Anyway, the doctor who did it sent me a letter this week summing it up. In 1995, he was able to dilate it to 16mm. In 2002, to 15mm. This time, it started out at 10mm and he could only dilate it to 14mm. Yikes. He recommends that I take medication for gastroesophageal reflux FOREVER to slow down the narrowing of the esophagus. Which really makes me mad because it is definitely a sign of old age to take daily medicine. What really cracked me up was the end of the letter when he wrote "You were a most cooperative patient." The only time he saw me was while I was drugged into oblivion and shortly after coming out of it when he explained what he had done! I really don’t remember much but apparently I didn’t tell him I hated him!