Biopsy of Dracula

My appointment was at 8am. My faithful driver, bless her, was at my door at 7 to make sure I got there despite traffic. Right on time, I checked in and went down the hall to the nurses' station for the prep. Change to a gown, go through your medical history (I need to get that put on a flashdrive), wait for an IV to be inserted. This should be way easier than a colonoscopy.

What was I thinking! First, they couldn't get the IV in the man ahead of me, so I waited. I decided to play a Brahms piece on the "piano" of my bed to pump up my veins as much as I could. They did manage to get it first stick, but used the peds needle. One trip to the bathroom. Then I waited and waited - some gentleman wandered by and told me they had to slip an emergency test in ahead of me and it would be another 20 minutes. I pulled out my new testament and began to read Psalms (remind me to get one that's got big print!) Forty minutes later (and another trip to the bathroom - IV drips can really fill a bladder), they wheeled me into the OR.

The young doctor looked with the ultrasound scope and finally found the lump. He looked closely at the screen. "I believe I am going to call another doctor to consult." he mumbled through his mask. The nurse assured me that they would likely not even need to give me anything through my IV. She told me they often are able to do it with local anesthesia only (great - you had to put in the IV before you knew if it was needed?).

Half hour later, the second doctor came, looked with the ultrasound probe. "That's the thyroid, that's the jugular, these are muscle layers. Yes, its in a tricky place. It will take a bit of maneuvering to get." She turned to me. "This is less than a half inch in size. The likelihood that we can get a viable sample is maybe 50%. Do you still want us to do this?"

I am beginning to see a glimmer of hope of escaping with only the IV wound. But the other doctor interrupted. "She had rectal cancer just a few years ago." "Oh," the consulting doctor responds. "That changes things. We will definitely do the biopsy. And she will need a little something."

They are about to begin when the consulting doctor is paged. The technician goes ahead and sterilizes the area, positions cloths in all the right places, then everyone disappears. The clock ticks slowly while I stare at the ceiling with weird fish painted on it. I suppose that is so that when they give me medicine, and I am feeling swimmy headed, things will seem natural. I mention it outloud, and the nurse laughs from somewhere hidden in the room. "They should have painted birds up there. That would have made more sense."

"Yes," I quip, "but I suppose they were afraid of what might drop from the ceiling then." She laughs again and the tech appears and starts squirting ultrasound gel around, making schmucking sounds. It quiets down, and I am alone. I know that I am going to have to go to the bathroom, but I am so tied down with bloodpressure cuffs, heart monitors, IVs, and sterile cloths, I can't imagine how I will pull that off.

I finally ask the nurse how much longer it will be. She tells me another 20 minutes, and that the procedure will take about 15 or 20 minutes. I tell her I can't wait that long. She brings a bedpan and we are careful not to disturb the sterile field. This is one for the record books!

And its a good thing we didn't wait. The procedure took almost twice as long and at least 8 or 9 stabs before they were able to get into the lump and extract as much as they could. The doctor told me it was a good sign that the gland was "running away" from the needle. Once she was able to get into the gland, she put some sort of vacuum thing on the needle and extracted stuff from way down my back - or that's what it felt like, and none too pleasant, thank you very much.

She had to do it three times, and each time required several sticks to get the right angle. Yikes! All told, I was there until noon. A full four hours. Poor Peg! I took her to lunch afterwards, though I have to admit, I really wanted to just go home and lie down. Way worse than the colonoscopy.

And I now have a beautiful blood mark on my neck complete with puncture wounds. Dracula couldn't have done a better job. Guess I will be wearing a scarf for a few days!