What’s Happenin’ in the Studio

Hi guys! Yes, I’m still around…once again busy with art, moving and life. For those of you who feared I didn’t survive my first colonoscopy, or thought I went AWOL….no worries I’m still kickin’! However, I had a little unexpected adventure that kept me from having that dreaded procedure. The day before the scheduled procedure, I woke up with huge cankles! The left one looked like it belonged to a woolly mammoth (huge!), and right one looked like it should have been attached to an NFL linebacker. Not quite as large as the left, but still quite ominous. I called my doc, she squeezed me in (literally!). She had some concerns it might be a blood clot, and sent me over to the hospital for a sonogram, with a CT scan chaser. When the young nurse hooked me up to an IV and said I would suddenly taste metal, get extremely hot, and feel like I’m peeing my pants, I suddenly thought that colonthingymajig didn’t sound half bad. I’m proud to say I survived the initial IV hot flash part, and was very pleased at myself that I actually didn’t pee my pants….that is until I realized I was suddenly going to have projectile vomitting….compliments of the devil juice. Lordy, I hope none of you are reading this near mealtime…..my apologies if so.  

My 12-year-old nurse was quick on her feet and pulled a vampire move and was suddenly under my mouth with a cone-shaped device within milliseconds. All pride went out the window as I pulled a Linda Blair oscar winning performance. You youngsters will just have to Google her and then you’ll get it. I just assume everyone is older than me….it’s part of my denial survival plan…another skill I acquired from the PD diagnosis. It also works well with weight and money issues.  

After my full 15 minute display on “How to Retch Like A Rhino”……I realized my toddler nurse had inched away and was looking a bit pale…serves her right for siphoning hell’s cocktail into my veins…….evil little tyke. The pride I felt earlier also passed as I realized I might be ready for Depends. You gals who have had a kid or two will totally get this. You youngin’s out there…..Google…Google! Also Google Kegels!  

My honor and pride lie in the pseudo Snow Cone Cup, along with lunch. Nurse Tot asked me if I was a bleeder as she wrapped my arm, and all I could mutter was huh? She giggled and singsaid…”nevermind”. I slowly slinked out of the xray room, praying I wouldn’t run into anyone other than my husband. I figure he signed the dotted line when it came to the better or worse part …seems like that worse part really kicks in after you hit 50. If you are under thirty, you have my permission to log off now….especially if you’re prone to depression.  

As I shuffled down the hall….for you PD newbies out there…..stress instantly puts Parkinson’s symptoms into overdrive. You suddenly feel like you have been hit with a steamroller, while having a 9.0 earthquake happen inside your entire body…not fun. I then realized Terry must have gone to get a soda…or maybe he heard me in the x-ray room, the same room the  Hazmat team was now in. I began to wonder if he was in route to Canada, a local pub, or the courthouse to file the proper papers.  

I then decided to make a trip to the ladies room, thinking there might be a drop left. Who was I kidding, I had left Nurse Pint Size every ounce of fluid I had in me. As I was pulling up my jeans, I noticed bright red blood on the floor. I said out loud (excuse my language gang) “Holy Shit!” The gal next to me kindly said “Are you okay?” I felt like I was on a Seinfeld episode as I muttered back to my stall buddy “I think so.” She must have thought I laid an egg in there by the sound of my confusion. You also have to remember I haven’t had a period in sixty years…I am 110 aren’t I?…….you PD’ers will get that one right away. A weird thought crossed my mind……… what if  Nurse Tween had somehow transferred her DNA into my vein and I was suddenly morphing into a teen in need of an mini-pad!  

 When my body search hit orifices about the belly button, Bingo! As fresh blood was pouring out of the huge hole in my left arm, I flashed on the BP crisis…my arm resembled the underwater shots I had seen on Anderson Cooper’s show the night before! I then remembered what Nurse Dora had squeaked earlier as she inserted the IV needle. She said, “This is going to be a big ouchie and you might get a boo boo cause I gotta use a super-duper ginormous needle to get this gooey stuff in your old vein.”  

Being the highly creative one that I am, I was able to assemble an incredible collage type tourniquet that was not only durable, but rather artistic. Who knew toilet seat covers could be so versatile? I then trotted out of my stall and bid good-bye to the little filly next to me. As I rounded the corner I saw Terry’s eyes open real big as he said (sorry gang) “Holy Shit!….what happened?!” At first I thought it was my pale face and messy hair that shocked him, until I realized I had blood on my thighs and forearms. He must have thought some crazed orderlies had beat the crap out of me in the john! By this time my gorgeous tourniquet was failing, I was shaking, and Terry morphed into Dr. Kildare. Sorry kids… gotta Google that one too.  

When I asked for the nurse, I was told she was on break, and wouldn’t return until after her mid-day nap and Juicy Juice. Long story short (ha! what a joke!) I am still a colonoscopy virgin and will have that lovely procedure done when I am fully recovered from my CT scan. I am currently in therapy 3 x a week working through Post Traumatic Syndrome issues.  

I had planned on posting some new art, hence the title above….. but the re-telling of this experience has me wiped out. I will definitely post new artwork within the next day or two.  After reading this, you might realize your day isn’t so bad afterall. : )  

A close resemblence to my nurse!!

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