My old body is so weird these days. I've been playing the major and minor scales on the piano again. Not much, just for the last few days. Before that I had avoided doing that because of pain and stiffness in my wrists and fingers. I seem to have a little more flexibility recently, so I've gone through the motions again. Slowly, deliberately, and for sure, not like I'm planning a future in the concert halls or much at all.
The next thing I wanna practice on the piano is making those runs up and down the keyboard. Doing that's gotta a name, but I don't remember it just now. I'm a little blowed away by the fast I'm doing now to prepare for having the colonoscopy procedure done tomorrow morning. I haven't done much fasting in a good long time. When I was in my twenties, thirties, and forties I did a lotta fasting. Some of it involuntarily because I lived like a bum and sometimes food was slim pickings.
Fasting, however, was usually deliberate. I'd just decide for some arbitrary reason that I needed to clean my system out and I'd stop eating. Usually for a minimum of three days. The longest I ever fasted was a half day short of thirty days. Today is the first day I've been completely without any food, but I'm doing it under doctor's instructions. They don't want anything to remain inside my colon to obscure the view of the camera.
In four hours I start by drinking the first 12 ounce bottle of citrate of magnesium, and then an hour later I start consuming a gallon of this stuff known as GoLightly. That's supposed to clean me out. I don't know the details of what does what, and I don't particularly wanna know. I'm doing what I'm gonna do because I've been told that's what my part of the deal is. Tomorrow morning, I gotta get up around five o'clock and drink the other 12 ounce bottle of citrate of magnesium. I guess for the final clean-out so my colon will be squeaky clean for the camera.
I'm still nervous about what the camera might find, but I'm resigned to the idea that I'm better off knowing for sure, than driving myself to distraction guessing. I keep getting the idea that I've unconsciously arranged to have this procedure done for my own reasons, without really knowing what the procedure itself entailed. Part of my nervousness has to do with self-blame. "What in God's name could I have been thinking? These people are going to put a piece of hardware up my ass, and it's not designed to help me reach a sexual climax.
I do have some sharp pain in this one spot when it's under stress. The worst happens because of constipation and hard stools. One of the side-effects of the prescription medicine I'm taking. The way I see it, I either hurt myself trying to get those hard stools out of my body or the hard stools provoked a pre-existing condition.
I'm prone to think it is the former problem, but mostly because what I studied in yoga warned me about straining to get hard stools out. The warning was specific in stating that you can hurt yourself by trying too hard. Usually hemorrhoids at the rectum, but further inside too. Sometime they repair themselves over time, and other times surgery is required. I never had no surgery or any serious problems with hemorrhoids. My rheumatologist at the Durham VA doubled my prescription for calcium and vitamin D capsules, and that really seemed to help with the constipation.
If you've read any of my blog entries over the last few days, you know I've been a little upset over a news article about a Senate investigation into some unuseful practices going on at some of the VA hospitals that directly involved this colonoscopy procedure that's to be performed on me tomorrow morning. My initial fears have been resolved. I'm convinced that's because I screamed bloody murder to somebody who could actually do something about my fears. Sometime, even I get lucky.
I've had two doctors from the VA in Durham to call me here at home this last week to express their concern, and to help me understand what i need to know to come to my own resolution and contentment about how I got upset. That's not representative of a cold and heartless bunch of bureaucrats who don't care if I live or die. I know who is responsible for this care, and I felt their compassion immediately when I first encountered them. Some people are just naturals when it comes to healing. They're worth more than their weight in gold.
There is some I've noticed in general about the VA hospital doctors that I really like. They appear to be more willing to let me participate in their diagnosis by listening closely to me. Sometime too closely. I listen to them too, and ask questions if I can, but sometimes there is a language problem that I'm afraid I'll hurt their feelings if I act like they don't speak English well. Some don't. I believe I can adapt better than them. I've studied statecraft because of the need, but that don't mean I was that great a student.
One area in the VA hospital's doctor's authority I never question, and bend over backward to go along unquestioningly if I can, and that's the medicines they prescribe. If I don't understand why they're prescribing a particular medicine, I ask them lots of questions about it, but I never challenge them. It's my body, but I brought it of my own free will to their house.
I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
