When I got back from doing the pre-op stuff this afternoon T made these chirpy excited noises and without prompting started blowing me kisses. So that was a nice moment.
I need some cheering up, so today I thought I’d do something different. Earlier this week my sister was telling me about an exercise she had to do for work. She had to fill out 10 questions as part of a “get to know you better” thing with her co-workers. She was panicking because one of the questions was “Name your most embarrassing moment” which in my opinion is a completely inappropriate question to be asking in a professional setting. We were strategizing over what her moment should be and it made me remember one of mine.
Because I clearly don’t have a professional bone in my body and this story makes me laugh I thought I’d tell it as a break from all the miscarriage sadness. Do not read on if you don’t think colonoscopies are funny.
Somewhere back around 2003 I needed to get a colonoscopy. Colonoscopies are not a good time. At the shabby Brooklyn hospital I visited for the procedure the recovery room was the same place as the pre-op room. So I was lying there waiting for my turn and some woman was lying next to me who had recently come out from the procedure. And this woman was farting louder and longer than any fart I have ever heard in my entire life. They didn’t sound real. I wish I had a recording because I just can’t do the sound justice. It was truly incredible. And this poor lady was clearly mortified. She kept saying to me, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I kept saying to her, “Please don’t worry about it.” But she wouldn’t stop apologizing. Finally I said, “Listen, I’m having the same procedure done, so I’m going to be in the same boat as you in about an hour. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
She really didn’t have anything to apologize for. Before they stick the camera up your butt they blow a large amount of air up there so they can see what is going on. When they finish that air needs to go somewhere, so the post-op farting is completely normal as well as completely hilarious.
Eventually they wheeled me into the room so they could perform this indignity on me. Evidently I got a little squirmy during the procedure so midway through they gave me some Demerol to quiet me down. At first it was bliss. I went right to sleep and didn’t wake up until I was in recovery with Z by my side. But shortly after I woke it was clear that Demerol was not actually my friend. For the next several hours I was in a cycle of going from being dead asleep to throwing up all over the place. I couldn’t keep anything down for the life of me. My procedure was later in the afternoon to begin with and the doctor was getting antsy about going home. He finally told me I was either going to have to pull myself together or get admitted to the hospital. It was literally the “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t say here” talk. I really didn’t want to puke in a cab, so Z called one of our closest friends who actually had a car in the city and he kindly picked us up and took us home. And I managed to hold the vomit in until we were back to our apartment.
Later that night I was thanking Z for helping me through a hellacious day and I remembered something. I said, “Well, at least I didn’t end up farting like that poor woman did!” Z looked at me with pity and incredulity (sadly, it is one of his standard looks when it comes to me) “Oh yes,” he said, “Yes you did.”
I will always be sad that I missed it. I could have used a good laugh that afternoon.
This tree is in our backyard. I love it so very much.