Thursday, March 14, 2013
My little procedure Tuesday went fine. And barring any problems from the test samples, I won't have to do an encore for another three years…almost enough time to halfway forget how exceedingly vile the gallon of prep-solution was to gag down.
On the other hand the propofol was dandy! Like switching off a light…one moment you're completely alert, the next you're waking, just as alert, and the procedure is done. They then wheel you back to your curtained cubicle, give you juice to sip, and ten minutes after that you're good to go—being pushed down the hall and out to the car. Not a moment's fuzziness, no odd sensations, tastes, smells, or after-effects that I noticed. Great stuff, propofol! I can see why Michael Jackson loved it.
Back home—three minutes from the hospital, which is directly across, fifteen-hundred yards, but out of sight beyond the hill from the cottage—I devoted the rest of the morning to snoozing, being woefully short (even for me!) on sleep. After a two-hour nap, I spent the afternoon reading and eating—first lunch, and a few hours later, supper. In-between I munched.
About midnight, just before heading to bed, I accompanied Moon-the-Dog outside for her evening constitutional. The night was cold and dark. A fine mist peppered down from the overcast sky—wet, icy, but whether sleet or rain I couldn't tell. The river was up, running fast and silent.
I relished it all…the cold, the darkness, the icy mist on my face and the spate river at my feet. I am truly blessed, and so very grateful.