Movement

A good word to summarize my day yesterday. It was the first day that found me more vertical than horizontal in a week. It addressed my failure to move (at least internally). It brought some new results on which to ruminate.

I arrived at the hospital at 10:00 am for my GI testing. I was unsure what these tests would entail, but I was assured that there would be nothing done that would compromise my ability to drive home. I cut a laughable figure in the waiting room. A hospital gown and dressing gown, from which peeked tattered-sneaker clad feet swaddled in white, knee-high compression socks. I was tempted to steal a walker while I was there.

Finally, I was called into the examining room for the first portion of my tests. First, a small cup of lemony crystals chased with a sip of water. Fills the stomach with gas for better viewing by the equipment. For someone already bloated like the Hindenburg, this was not the happiest of situations. Next, an alternating sequence of sips of thick, vaguely sweet barium solution and flip flops on the rock hard x-ray table. But, nothing overly distressing and all assembled were smiling and satisfied with the progress of the test. Now, time for part 2.

The second portion was to concentrate on the lower bowel, or colon. This time, I was presented with 2 large cups of the slightly gag-inducing barium and the instructions to wait for about 20 minutes. Walking around would speed the movement of the barium, I was told, so I paced the halls on my abused feet for what seemed an eternity. Unsurprisingly, I was not recalled until nearly 40 minutes had passed.

Hop onto the table, take a test picture, wait for the radiologist to give his blessing for the tests to continue. Well, the first two went well. The barium had gone virtually no further than the top of the colon. When the nurse informed me of this in the waiting room, I felt a pit open in the floor and my body plummet into the core of the Earth. This was going to be a very long day. The rules of the tests were such that I could eat nothing from midnight the previous night AND was prohibited liquid during the duration of the examination. I felt like I was teetering on the brink of complete dissolution. Already, I was slightly nauseous and shaky, parched as the desert sands and my legs were rebelling at having their healing process disrupted. I relayed these concerns to the nurse, who relayed them to the doctor. I was not much assisted, but the barium with which she returned was in a larger cup as it had been diluted with water. Some concession to my thirst. Down the hatch...more waiting.

Again recalled, again on the table, again a test picture, again the wait for the verdict. Again, the word was not encouraging. Inappreciable movement of the barium. From the look of sheer distress as she imparted this news, the nurse knew that I was not in good straights. She was gone for quite awhile before returning with 2 more cups of barium and some fairly uplifting news. The radiologist had decided to follow this course. Give me a large dose of barium. Then, I could go home for 2 hours. While there, I was permitted a light meal and liquid. He was actually hoping that the action of eating might help to move the barium through the colon. I was unabashedly grateful and expressed this to the nurse, whom I suspect played a large part in securing this mercy.

So, I redressed, returned and fixed a nutrient-dense lunch of fresh pear and cherries, raw nuts, coconut and vegetables. First, though, my fingers reached for liquid. Blessed, blessed liquid. The only time in my life I had felt so parched was during a trip taken to Disneyworld when I was a child. We sat on the curb in the blistering summer heat waiting for the parade. I had no liquid and I dehydrated to the point where my tongue was swollen and sore in my mouth. This current situation came in second place. I installed myself on the couch and rested my feet, body and mind in preparation for the next round at the hospital.

Seeing the hospital loom over my dashboard was a deflating experience, but one I hoped would be a productive one. Fingers crossed, I re-donned the hospital garb and waited. The nurse came to retrieve me and she wore an unconvincingly encouraging smile. Hop up, take picture, wait. I could see the door into which she disappeared with my x-ray and the fact that she peeked around its corner a few times to look at me did not fill me with confidince. Her return confirmed this feeling. The barium had migrated only a portion of its necessary course, but the doctor was going to come in and look at things as best he could anyway.

Now, the procedure is actually fascinating, as you can see what is going on in real time on the same monitor at which the doctor is looking. So, I could see my innards, which I find interesting. It was easy to see the stunted progress of the barium and the next bit actually made me laugh. To move the barium along, the doctor was reduced to pushing and squeezing my abdomen. I could see the barium squirt from zone to zone like mustard being squeezed from the bottle. Push, squeeze, push, squeeze...further and further the barium was herded until enough information was gathered to make some judgements.

As far as the doctor could see, there were no masses or structural problems. However, all was definitely not good. There was but a tiny fraction of the normal peristaltic motion present in the Gi tract. The stool was so packed it had backed up into my small intestine! Effectively, the intestines are failing to effectively move material along the designated pathway. They are not shut down completely, but the movement is so slow, that the problem is in the level of serious. Today, I go to see a gastroenterologist. I did ask the radiologist if the liver enlargement and the GI problem could be related and he said that a number of factors could be at play for the GI, but there were things that could work for both systems. Likely, the gastroenterologist will have specific tests to order and medications to try along those lines. Yippee? Crap? Hurray? BooHoo? I just don't know.

So, my tale continues. Again, for the last time, I sit on my butt. My legs were punished yesterday and were on fire last night. Today, a hurricane blows, it seems, outside, as it did yesterday. Mother Nature also seems to be going through a bad patch. But, I am in good spirits and cannot say that I am blue today. I think I have passed beyond the stage of depression into the stage of acceptance. Not that I am giving up, but rather, I simply take things as they come and neither worry about the future nor grieve over the past. Work the problem and live the day. I did hear some glorious news yesterday, though. A colleague emailed me that my students miss me. One senior asked her to bring to me a small gift and another teacher had spied some of my students making cards for me on their own time in the library. We hear so much about the heinous fiends inhabiting our school systems that we forget that most of the kids are a good and decent bunch. Despite everything, I went to bed with a smile on my face. My friends love me and my students miss me. How can life be that bad :-)