April 1, 2008
What a glorious day is this first day of April! After months of “the procedure” hanging over my head like the Sword of Damocles it is now completed, and it went very much as described. The drinking of the rinse was the hardest part, the actual event in the doctor’s office was blotted out by the medication give through an IV. I was given a set of photos to authenticate my inner beauty, and since they revealed that I am without symptoms of anything amiss, I found them beautiful indeed. When I arrived at shortly after one PM, I asked the nurse how many colonoscopies were done each day, and he said usually between forty and fifty. Since I was in a curtained off alcove along a long hallway filled with identical areas, I could hear the rolling beds coming and going every few minutes. A number of specialists were operating in the rooms at the end of the space, and when I was taken in, the doctor, a nurse who administered the sleeping potion and another doctor’s assistant were in the room. I assured them all that I didn’t need to remember anything, and they seemed to find this agreeable as the next thing I perceived was the doctor telling Charles that everything was very good, and shortly thereafter, we returned home.
Of course, it would have been very nice to have found some minor thing that causes my intestines to become so disagreeable, but I am quite content with the “less is better” diagnosis. Blood readings today indicate that the disease is still taking a time out; welcome spring! Hello summer!
We took Alphie to the veterinarian last week to have his annual health check-up and get his nails trimmed. Because the summer dosages of the heart worm pills depend on his weight, we had to put him on the scale, and for some reason, it absolutely terrified him. The poor dear began to shake even as the scales indicated that he is now weighing 107 pounds, making him eligible for the “small pony” class. His checkup indicated that this is not exactly plumpness because he does run about two to three miles a day, but we were told that if we could somehow hold him at 100 pounds, his medications would not be so costly. I sat on the floor holding him until he stopped shaking, and his visage was one of extreme sorrow as we discussed how to trim him up a bit. He is not yet three years old and already he is joining the American propensity toward becoming obese. Of course, it is all my fault because I give him dog treats in order to keep his life a joyful one – we all know the heart of a dog resides in its stomach. Now he is on treats for small dogs instead of the giant chews made for dogs his size. I have assured him that the size of the treat in no way indicates the level of love directed toward him but I think I read, “Rabbits – I need rabbits” in his expression and demeanor as we go out for our walks now.