When I endure bizarre medical procedures, I like to share some of the gory details. After all, where’s the fun in suffering silently? No one enjoys people who incessantly whine about their ailments, but medical war stories can sometimes be entertaining and even educational.
If difficult experiences don’t teach us anything, they’re pretty much a bust, so I’ve determined to learn as many life lessons as possible on this medical-go-round I’ve been riding the past few years.
My afflictions haven’t been life threatening, so while I complain and carry on, I’m really just a novice compared to some of you major-league sufferers. My recent medical history is dotted with random, niggling ailments that have cost me money, time and dignity, but have never threatened to usher me into eternity.
I’m like a car with a good engine but too many extraneous parts that have been left by the side of the road. No muffler, a broken air-conditioner, worn-out shocks, and a little rust here and there, but the engine purrs like a kitten.
These annoying problems have earned me tickets to some seriously yucky tests that I wouldn’t wish on even Osama Bin Laden … well, maybe on him …but not on anyone else I can think of.
First, let me suggest this: if any doctor utters the phrase “barium enema” to you, run for your life. Enough said.
Here’s another procedure to avoid: esophageal manometry. You prepare for this test by not eating or drinking for 12 hours, so that when your gag reflex kicks in during this procedure, you won’t ruin the day (or the shoes) of the technician standing there. When you arrive sufficiently parched and starved, a tube with a sensor the size of Montana is shoved up your nose and down your throat. You then sip water as the sensor is slowly reeled back up your throat to evaluate your swallowing mechanism.
It’s every bit as fun as it sounds.
Then there’s the ever-popular colonoscopy, which is only unpleasant if you find drinking a gallon of dishwashing liquid distasteful; the nerve conduction test, which makes you feel like an electrified voodoo doll, and my most recent favorite – the spinal nerve block injection.
I knew somebody was going to get on my last nerve, and lo and behold, I guess it finally happened. And since it happened in my lower back, it doomed me to many doctor’s appointments, imaging scans, and three spinal injections.
I sure know how to have a good time.
Here’s something else I’ve learned: “You’ll feel a little pressure” or “a little stick” is a medical euphemism for, “Get back, Jack, ’cause this is gonna HURT.”
But it’s quite possibly a euphemism with biblical precedence.
In 2 Corinthians 4: 17, the Bible says, “For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.”
Bear in mind that this was written by the Apostle Paul, who was stoned, shipwrecked, imprisoned, beaten, whipped and left for dead on several occasions.
You call those “light and momentary troubles”? I’m not sure Paul and I use the same dictionary.
Maybe God wants us to realize that the pain we experience in this life truly is “just a little pressure” or “a little stick” and no big deal compared to the glory of heaven that is coming for those who’ve embraced Jesus Christ.
Something to ponder the next time you’re guzzling that gallon of detergent before a colonoscopy.