Apparently, news travels fast from the OR (operating room) to the clinic, and word of yesterday's traumatic experience had made the rounds.
When I saw my nurse coordinator, Emily, in the hallway, she gave me a remarkably sympathetic greeting. Turns out she'd read the colonoscopy report. While I was waiting in the exam room, Dr. Forman's nurse practitioner, Barb, tracked me down. "Oh you poor thing! Let me give you a hug," she groaned while giving me a warm embrace.
"I see you've read the report too," I said. "Yes, the whole hospital's talking about it," she teased (or at least I hope she was teasing). Barb spoke with the GI doctor, and it sounds like he's the one who needs a hug today. He's still shook up over the screaming patient incident.
Dr. Forman and I read the report together so that I could see what was on my permanent record. "Patient screamed in pain" it read. I'm sure Dr. L used his physician's restraint to keep from adding "like a big baby" or "like a banshee" to the report. He went on to write that he withdrew the adult scope and substituted the diminutive pediatric scope. (Hmmm . . . here's a tip: If you suspect you have a "skinny colon," ask for the kid's scope.)
Today I followed the lead of Martha Stewart's daughter, Alexis, and brought fresh-baked chocolate white chocolate chunk cookies to my favorite doctor and nurses. (Alexis routinely brings beautifully packaged baked goods to the staff of her infertility clinic.) My timing couldn't have been better. I'm hoping now everyone will remember me as the nice patient who bakes instead of the kooky one who screams.
(And no cheap shots about what these cookies remind you of.)
PS We're still uncertain about the next step or next test, but I hope to find out more tomorrow.
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