Trial and Error

Today's theme: If at first you don't succeed, try, try again...and again...and maybe just for kicks, do it one more time.

Today I was scheduled for a gastroduodenal motility test (gastro = stomach, duodenum = upper small intestine). A GDM involves doing an endoscopy to stick a tube from your mouth, all the way into your upper small intestine. The tube has cameras on it (sheesh, the paparazzi are everywere!), as well as sensors that detect movement in the muscles. This test was crucial for me, as it would determine if my gastrointestinal "exceptionalities" are mechanical (i.e. fixable) or related to motility (i.e. we haven't a clue). Based on my plethora of bizarre symptoms, this test was really important for designing a plan for improving my health and getting me the heck out of "it's a high of 2 degrees today" Minnesota.

But...my body said no. C'est la vie.

If I'm being honest, I should have seen it coming. As I've mentioned in a previous post, my blood and I are really attached to each other. We have serious separation issues. Unlike preschool playdates where you can wait until they are playing happily and then sneak out the back door, blood NEVER starts playing happily and it notices everything. So when the nurse came to start my IV this morning, I really should have jumped ship and gone sprinting down the hall. Instead, like an idiot, I stuck around to model the finest in hospital gown robes and to terrify everyone in line behind me to get an IV.

No exaggeration, my IV nurse was a giant, terrifying Russian woman. While loudly snapping on her plastic blue gloves and not offering even the slightest hint of a smile, I was told, "I am Janska. I am here to enter your needle." Ohgoodgrief. This was followed by a glance at my arm and, "Sigh. You have not made my job easy. Please lie still." Gee, my apologies. Next time, I'll be sure to order a set of larger veins before I come in for a procedure. I'm sure you can see where this is going...I politely offered my best suggestion on where to get the IV and I was less-than-politely ignored. Three needles, a crazed 28 year old woman who will remain nameless and a box of gauze later, I had an IV. Ya know, secretly I always wanted an arm that looked like a pirate map. And yes, I already checked...there is no buried treasure. Before my new friend Janska left, she offered a sigh and, "well, looks like I am not off to a good start." Um...sorry?

Next I was wheeled into the procedure room where I met the team of 6 who would work with me today. The test was supposed to last for 7 hours, so we were going to know each other quite well. They started my sedation IV and the next thing I knew, I was back in recovery.

The following things are true:
1. It was only supposed to be a light sedation...i.e. I wasn't supposed to fall asleep. Oops. Guess I should have mentioned that I'm a very cheap date.
2. The clock read 10:45 when I woke up. I know I teach elementary school math and all...but even I know that isn't 7 hours.
3.There were not 1, not 2, but three nurses staring at me with a sympathetic look on their faces when I woke up. Gulp.

So apparently the GDM tube got stuck on my feeding tube and they couldn't complete the test. Beforehand, they had been worried that they might dislodge the feeding tube, but hadn't at all expected a completely blocked I-95. I also apparently busted out some of my rock-star kickboxing moves during the procedure and tried to complete the tube extraction myself. Whatever people, I've watched a lot of Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice and I know what I'm doing. What happens in the procedure room stays in the procedure room...right?

SO. Now my little (well, maybe not so little) team of doctors is trying to noodle a new way to complete this test where they don't a) play bumper cars with my feeding tube, b) completely knock me out and c) allow me to give a lesson on jabs, upper cuts and kicks.

On the plus side, I got a really great nap.