Orphans and Dingbats
Mon., September 4, 11:56 AM
Archie Bunker used to say (usually about Edith), “Providence looks out for orphans and dingbats.” Husband often quotes Archie, but not that one. That one is mine.
I was reminded how pertinent that saying is when I found an old lab report. Husband’s progress through the medical procedures, some ten years ago, was so convoluted that I used a flow chart to explain it. It began with an upset stomach.
He found that im0dium was not helping him, and I told him he would have to see the doctor. (I treat symptoms, but I do not diagnose. This was beyond my capabilities.) His primary doctor prescribed something stronger – maybe an antibiotic – but that didn’t help enough, and the primary referred him to a gastroenterologist. This very nice lady found a hernia so advanced that she could not examine him (“it doesn’t bother me,” he said). She referred him to a surgeon, who scheduled Husband for surgical correction of the problem.
Husband went back to his primary for the routine pre-operative tests. The primary ran an EKG and said, “there’s something wrong with this. It’s different from the last ones I ran.” So saying, he faxed the EKG to a cardiologist.
The cardiologist said, "that is not an normal EKG." He ran some more tests and scheduled Husband for an angiogram. (I think they have another name for it now; basically, it’s taking pictures while there is a dye in the blood vessels.) The angio showed severe blockage in a couple of blood vessels, and Husband was then scheduled for what would be the first of several angioplasties in the following years.
The balloon angioplasty was successful, and after the follow-up exam, the cardiologist said, “now let’s get that surgery.” The surgeon happens to work at the other hospital (there are two great hospitals in town, but I prefer the care at hospital number one). I waited an extraordinarily long time to find out how he was doing and, in fact, didn’t find anything out until the surgeon herself came out to tell me he was okay. The anesthesiologist, an ego at the end of a needle, would not ask for advice or help but took half an hour to get the IV started; the procedure was already running late. Then the hernia turned out to be so advanced that additional work was needed to repair it. Nevertheless, all went well, and after the surgeon pronounced him healed, we went back to the gastroenterologist.
So one lovely morning I brought Husband to the “other” hospital, where I walked forever to get him to his colonoscopy. No problem, everything went well, and the doctor came out to tell me there was nothing the matter with him. She removed one little polyp because she was there anyhow, but it was nothing.
All that for nothing? No. Husband never complains of chest pains or similar discomfort. If he hadn’t had the wake-up call of an upset stomach, he would never have known that he was heading for a heart attack. He never had one, because the doctors found out and corrected the problem in time. Providence was indeed looking out for him.
Even if I hadn’t found the lab report, I would have been reminded of that on Friday, as I went for my own procedures. I was scheduled for an upper endoscopy as well as a colonoscopy, but the whole procedure was simpler. There is an endoscopy center in the doctor’s building, and they were incredibly organized. It didn’t take long, and then they called U.D. to come in from the waiting room.
I’m fine. I kept thinking about that episode of “M*A*S*H,” where the Colonel’s horse got sick. “Clean as a whistle, inside and out.” The doctor found some HHT spots, as we expected, but none were bleeding. She found a hiatal hernia, which I had once seen on a sonogram, though no one ever mentioned it to me. (“Other hospital.”) It never bothered me, once I had delivered the last baby. And she found some signs of aging. Well. Wouldn’t it have been embarrassing if I were signed up for Medicare and had no signs of aging?
Speaking of that last baby, you might want to go back to the comments to my last post. Our Son has offered a lovely comment.
