I mean, I’m sure you have heard of them. Know what they are. Plan to avoid them at all costs.
Well, my husband couldn’t.
The idea is so preposterous to him that apparently he could not grasp the idea.
Him with no coffee?
Even I cannot grasp the image.
The doctor smiled sympathetically and told me I was in for a long day.
My husband laid back in the bed, arched his back, and let out the loudest fart I had heard him let out. As he farted, he groaned a groan no grown man should moan in public. “Oh, that’s good. That’s really good,” he moaned.
And then he winked at me.
With that, he fell asleep – sorta – until he farted and the moaning and groaning began again.
The older man across from me who was sitting with his wife began to chuckle.
A nurse came in to give him some food. He chose a turkey sandwich and the nurse carefully squeezed out some mayonnaise for him. Just a few thin slices of turkey on wheat bread (which he hates) and a bit of mayo. The man thought he was eating food from heaven. “This is the best turkey sandwich I have ever eaten,” he said between rolled back eye moments of delight. He sucked the orange juice they gave him dry with the straw, making loud sucking noises.
And then he farted some more.
A new nurse came in and looked over his chart again. “We can go home now, right?” Jake asked.
“Well, how are you feeling?”
“Great!” He declared.
So she told him he could leave. He immediately stood up and whipped the hospital gown right off of him.
And there stood my husband, naked as could be, in the middle of the six bed recovery room. The nurse whipped that curtain shut so fast it about made my head spin. I pulled out Jake’s clothes and handed him his underwear (grundies, as he calls them) and he stared a good long time at them.
It was apparent that I was going to have the dress him.
“I’m feeling great!” he told me as I tapped the leg he needed to lift. “Really great.”
I pulled his shirts over his head. He couldn’t find the arm holes.
“Did the doctor come in here?”
“Yup”, I answered as I pulled up his jeans.
“He said I could drink gallons of coffee now, right?”
“Um, not really….”
He began to weave a bit. He sat down on the bed and was back asleep faster than I could imagine a person could fall asleep.
He even snored.
The nurse peeked in the curtain a few minutes later, avoiding a glance in my husband’s direction. “How are we doing in here?” she asked cheerily.
“He’s dressed,” I said simply.
“Oh good!” she blushed. She then asked him if he felt well enough to leave and he was up and ready to go. He stood up fast, wobbled a bit, took my arm and waved farewell.
He was still in his socks. The nurse asked how he was going to walk to the vehicle in his socks and I could tell, the thought had not occurred to him. The man wanted out of there!
We walked into the waiting room, where our coats and his boots were. My six foot three husband said in his booming voice to the two men sitting there drinking the bad coffee and watching worse t.v., “You do NOT want to go in there!”
Seeing they had a good one to tease, the men chucked and mentioned they’d been eyeing his blingy black cowboy boots, they wanted to know if he was going to go eat a good meal now and they wished him well on his way out the door.
The men and I had a good chuckle.
As we walked out the door, Jake began to pat his butt until he pulled out his wallet. He opened it, looked inside at the money and then put it in another pocket. Then he began to check his back pocket for his wallet and panickingly pat his body to feel his wallet. “Did you take my wallet?” he asked.
He found it, checked the money, put it in another pocket and then he started all over again, searching, asking me for it, finding it, looking at the money and moving it to another pocket.
By the time we got to Wendy’s – his choice for a first meal – I picked his wallet out of his hand and said, “See your wallet, honey? See me putting it in my purse? See how it’s safe? Okay?”
Then he asked me if I was going to take all his money.
As I helped him across the parking lot, I had an image of us growing old together.
It’d be a new blog.
We went in to get the meal where he waved to an elderly couple we know from church. He then began to sway in line and repeat himself over and over and I am quite certain that the people in line thought he was drunk. He chowed his food down, declaring it to be the best meal he’s ever eaten, and we headed home.
When I stopped for gas, I took the keys out. I was afraid he’d forget where we were and leave me.
We arrived home nearly three hours after leaving, and I tucked him into bed where he slept for just over six hours. When he woke up, he didn’t recall anything but the turkey sandwich and the dinner at Wendy’s.
To celebrate his survival of his first colonoscopy the next day, he grilled t-bone steaks.
All in all, he is glad he had the colonoscopy and endoscopy. The blood turned out to be hemorrhoids, and just so you know, we all have them (the doctor told us so). Sometimes they just flare up and are bad, as they were with Jake that week. With proper medication the doctor feels the badly damaged esophagus will heal…as long as he stays away from triggers that cause him heartburn. As for the polyp, it was nothing…but he will have to go back in five years to just make sure all is still well. And then we’ll go through this all over again.