Just Following Procedure

For the n-teenth time I recently found myself with an IV in my hand, a blood pressure cuff on my arm, an oxygen monitor on my finger, and my bare ass in the air awaiting yet another “procedure.”  I got to thinking about a few things (good drugs can do that), my long medical history, how healthcare delivery has changed, and just when did surgery become  merely a “procedure”?

I always thought a procedure was a series of things you did in a certain order to accomplish something.  (To make a cake you must assemble the ingredients, follow the recipe, bake the thing, and at the end of all that effort you have a cake.  FYI – If you do any of that out-of-order you will NOT get a cake.)  There are procedures flight attendants follow for take-off, there is a procedure for building a house, and there is a procedure for doing your income taxes.

I believe the insurance companies got together and decided if they stop calling it “surgery” and start calling it a “procedure” it wouldn’t sound like a big deal and they could kick people out of the hospital on the same day – or if it involved amputation, maybe the next day. Better yet – don’t even go to a hospital at all! Let’s do it all in the doctor’s office -  it’s just a “procedure” after all!  For anything involving anesthesia….we’ll invent a surgical suite thingy where doctors can see patients in one room and go across the hall to the surgical suite for the “procedures.” Bonus – let’s not call it “anesthesia”  anymore (because you’d need an anesthetist for THAT) – let’s call it “sedation”.

See how they did that?  Who says health insurance needs reforming?

I would like some reform.  A  little.  An effort? I don’t deal with any kind of anesthesia well, although I have been told I am a whole lot of fun when I am coming out of it. This time around  I was waking up in the “surgical suite” when I heard someone knocking on the door.  My response?  “Penny? Penny? Penny? PENNYPENNYPENNYPENNY?”  I thought it was hysterical.  No one else did. Apparently they felt the fact that I was laughing like a hyena meant that I was well enough to be put in a car and driven home.  This is Joe’s least favorite part of “procedures” – the nausea fueled race to get back to Gloucester before I throw up in the car. (Sorry, graphic content.) It’s awesome. It keeps our romance alive, baby.

I have come to believe we will soon see mobile procedure trucks coming to our

We Were Trained For This in Our Youth!

homes (like those dog groomers) where they  fix you up in the truck right there in the driveway.  After you are finished you can get your mail and walk up the sidewalk right back in to your house (with the entire neighborhood seeing your bare ass sticking out of a procedure gown.  (They won’t be called “hospital gowns”  because…. there won’t be any hospitals.)

In addition to the Big Bang Theory, we watch a lot of House Hunters (hey, it’s good comic relief). There are a LOT of people out there who think they can’t buy a house if the color of the rooms isn’t to their liking. ( I am not making that up. )  Can you imagine what that show will be like in the year 2019 when people have to look for a house that can accommodate a growing family and all of their “procedures”?  “I like the space, but I just can’t see myself getting a pap smear /  knee replacement / appendix removed in a room that needs so much updating – and the wall color (eyeroll) ewww!”

The Lent Thing – Baltimore Style

I was reading back through an old post about Lent when it dawned on me I needed to pull the trigger on this year’s Lenten resolutions.  As I explained here  there are 3 things that need to happen: I need to 1) stop doing something, 2) start doing something and 3) something that is kept private. (i.e. I can’t give up potato chips and make that the “private” thing because it would become apparent very quickly as I’d be in the police notes pretty fast.)

So why after all these years do I still cling to making Lenten resolutions? For those not familiar with the  Baltimore Catechism, I invite you to look over the following:

My Youth Started Here

This is the “beginner” version of the Baltimore Catechism.  Anyone who went through similar formation can still do the rapid-fire answers to questions like, “WHO MADE YOU?” and “WHY DID GOD MAKE YOU?”

After that you graduated to an expanded version, the St. Joseph’s Baltimore Catechism.  That contained  more of the same on an expanded basis.  More to memorize.  More to stand up and parrot back to Here-Comes-Sister-Celestine-Riding-On-A-Jellybean.  (Our idea of really giving the nuns a hard time.)

There is something to be said for using rote memorization to train the memory but when I look back at these images I don’t feel so much proud of having a well-trained mind as horror at what kind of ideas we were trained with.

FYI Gay People Want to Marry The Person of Their Choice, Too

GIRLS: REMEMBER YOUR PLACE!

I have a dear friend who is my sherpa guide to hedonistic consumption.  I like to tell him he is “an occasion of sin” because he tempts me towards all kinds of impurities like expensive linens and splurging on gourmet cheeses and wines. My knee-jerk reaction toward what I perceive as excess was based on the following:

Priorities, Beeuches!

Yeah, television is definitely an occasion of sin. “Bonanza” was pretty scandalous. Ed Sullivan?  Don’t get me started.  Pure filth.

John would be considered a “BAD COMPANION!”

He’s actually a pretty good companion. (We rarely sneak a cigarette.) He’s taught me a lot about myself, including that we all deserve to have and enjoy nice things without beating ourselves up about it.

I’m all for a spring housecleaning of the soul but this year feels different. I’ve been sorting receipts for taxes and am appalled at the number of office visits, doctor visits, etc. that have piled up over the past year, and continue into this year.  My health has really sucked for the past 18 months (BTW, I’d be happy to give up lumbar steroid spinals for Lent) and I never did buy in to that “all pain and suffering can be offered up…will strengthen your faith” BS. So what to do for Lent when I already feel quite full-up with the existing penances in my life? I think I’ll flip things and make this Lent a time for feeding my soul instead purging all my “impurities” (like my lust for potato chips).  I’m going to find things that nourish my heart, help me cope with my aches and strengthen my beliefs and values. I’m going to replenish my tool chest of life and faith skills.  While that approach is not in sync with the Baltimore Catechism I believe if I can do that for 40 days I’ll come out on the other end as a stronger, better, faith-filled person – and that is what I believe to be the purpose of Lent.

Heavyweight Featherweight

Isn’t she beautiful?
This is my foster-sewing machine, lent to me by a dear friend who understands my Bernina-separation-anxiety (and is probably tired of hearing me endlessly whine…..)

Anyway, she is comfortably nestled in my sewing room and I have already used to her make a few blocks for a shop sample quilt we are doing for the New England Quilt Museum gift shop.  She sews like a dream – those of you lucky enough to have a featherweight can attest to the beautiful, straight stitch.  It even smells good. It  smells like my mother’s old Singer did way back when.  I was mid-project when the Bernina gave out and now that I can continue I have no idea how or where my head was when I started the project.  I was going to make a snazzy carrying case for my iPad and I had it all mapped out in my head how the different layers and separators would go together.  Now – nadda.  I vaguely remember… but not well enough to jump back in and finish.  (I have learned the hard way that you do NOT sew when you are 1) tired, 2) frustrated or 3) unclear on the details.)

I have an extra reason to be thankful for such a portable marvel of a machine. I spent an hour and 45 minutes crammed head-first into  a steel coffin (AKA MRI machine)  on Sunday and found out today that they DID NOT SCAN MY KNEE.  Lower spine, yes – knee, NO.  Since my original trip to the doctor was about not having any feeling or sensation or support in my knee (causing 2 horrific falls) I was speechless to find that it was the one thing they did not scan.  Today I have a 4PM appointment with my primary care physician (who has foisted me off on PA’s for the last several years, just sayin’) and we are going to have a 5-alarm come-to-Jesus.  I am angry and horrified that I underwent that terrifying (I’m claustrophobic) MRI against my wishes and have nothing to show for it that didn’t already show up on an MRI we did just six months ago.

Bottom line -  when I get hauled off to jail for gutting him like a fish I will at least have this little  featherweight  in its elegant black carrying case with me so I can make some stylish prison garb to wear to my anger management therapy sessions.  Seriously.