I’m finished with my once-a-decade southern invasion. Three days of prep for a half-hour procedure.
I found out when I checked in at the hospital that there is a pill option (instead of drinking a gallon of fluid) and was starting to get excited until I found out 1) that they are huge pills, and 2) there are 24 of them. Maybe the drink’s not so bad.
Standard procedures, and also some surgeries, are real assembly line operations. My recent cataract surgery was that kind of experience. The doctor who fixed my eyes told me he does eight or nine a day and only works until noon. The anesthesiologist who came to ask me numerous questions about my procedure today told me she oversees 60 procedures a day. It was hard to find a parking spot in the five-story garage (one of several) when we got to the hospital. Big business.
I’ve been very fortunate to have had minimal health issues so far. According to a friend of mine who was citing a study done in England recently, as well as anecdotal info from my circle of similar-aged friends, that’s about to change. Can’t say I’m happy about that, but I’m aware that denying reality doesn’t make it go away.
At any rate, I’m pretty much back to normal after today’s procedure, and I’m glad it’s behind me (I know, I know, but there’s no way I was going to pass on that one).