A shot of Demerol jump-started this episode of my sit-com life. I was transported from my room to the Interventional Radiology Suite but had to wait in the holding area because I still needed a shave. This gave me the opportunity to get a very good look at the procedure room well before I had to enter. Although I’m pretty adaptable to environmental changes, I liked having the luxury of time.
The Interventional Radiologist appeared with words of encouragement. I was not worried about the UFE and knew everything would be fine but it was still great hearing it from my doctor. Doc, two thumbs up in the bedside manner department.
Time for my shave. It’s a groin thing so hair removal produced a strip (stripe?) right down the middle. I personally think this “UFE cut” will be the next new hot fashion trend. The groin shave was comical and the nurse kept me laughing through the whole process.
So, I entered the suite with a huge smile. The room was larger than I thought and filled with monitors. Noticed additional nurses and really started to think that this whole adventure should have been televised. I found everything the nurses did before the procedure hilariously funny. Moving me to the table. Wiping me down with what I assumed was some type of iodine solution. Connecting me to the monitoring equipment with those circular adhesive patches. I could not stop giggling. By the time they started covering stuff with clear plastic, I was a basket case. For some reason, that plastic triggered some weird Saturday Night Live skit scenario in my mind:
Nurses finish preparing me for the procedure. Doctor comes in and cuts into my flesh but I do not bleed. The medical staff look at each other and then all simultaneously realize that I am not human. Horror quickly gives way to amusement when something zany like Cheez Whiz sprays out of my body and saturates the plastic-covered equipment.
Yes, I agree. A warped brain on drugs is a peculiar thing indeed.
What do I remember right before my Uterine Fibroid Embolization?
By now, the drugs had really kicked in. Saw the nurses moving around but I couldn’t hear a word they were saying. Figured this was an indication that I probably would not remember any of this. The inquisitive geek in me found this moderately disappointing. Looked to my right and the “debonair fibroid doctor” was standing there just about to start. Not such a bad last memory to have.
Wish I could fill this page with objective observations of my UFE. Unfortunately, I remember nothing. I don’t even recall the doctor making the small incision at the very beginning of the procedure. I can say that I felt no apprehension or stress. My brain shut off and my faith took over.
