Colonoscopy Time

February 6, 2019
“A Gut Check”

            WAITING ROOM -- I’m about as nice a guy as you’re going to meet, but I can’t make myself enjoy waiting for a nurse to open a side door and say, “Mr. Haistner! Mr., Mark Haistner!”

             I just sat down here in the waiting room of the Office of Digestive Troubles. That’s not the real name, but I’d have to go back to the check-in place to find out what it’s really called. If I did that, I fear Connie would find something else for me fill out. (Not her real name)

            During my lifetime, this is only my third appearance in the digestive troubles waiting room. The previous two visits resulted in the scheduling of an upper and lower GI. I’m assuming one of those procedures requires a considerably longer tube than the other. Fortunately, I didn’t notice because I was knocked out. “Knocked out” is a good feeling.  

            There are not many young people in the waiting room. Even if you’re without sight, you would discern that from the loudness of each conversation. – “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” – “Yes, and don’t ask me that again!”

            By the way, I’m waiting to see Dr. Ralph Pearce. While the man has probed me twice, he may not recognize my face, but if I walked into his office, turned around and dropped my pants, he’d say, “Hey, Mark, you ol’ scudder! You still writing for the paper?” Dr. Pearce has a great sense of humor, a quality essential for gastroenterologists. That’s the technical name for doctors who look into places you don’t talk about.

            I grabbed a Texas Highway magazine before sitting down in one of the only available chairs. This edition is from March 2019. I have yet to find any post dated magazine in a doctor’s office, hospital, car repair, or realtors waiting room, They’re usually from six months to two years old. It does little to boost my spirit, but it is a plus.

            I think I’ll read the article on fairy shrimp at Enchanted Rock. I don’t what a fairy shrimp is, but I’ve been to Enchanted Rock a few times. Once, it had rained and was so slippery that only a fool would try to make it to the top. And, yes, I made it to the top.

            “Hayter! Hayter!” Wow. She couldn’t pronounce my first name, but she nailed the last one. This has not been a long wait. In fact, had she called me sooner, I would’ve still been filling out Form 1D CRX. I may have had some of those abnormalities, but I had no idea they had names. – Y’all wait here, and I’ll let you know what happens. Back in 30 minutes to two hours. Who can know these things?

                        ONE HOUR LATER: Well, I just got some bad news and some worse news. The bad news is that day after tomorrow I’m having another upper and lower GI. The worse news is that tomorrow I will have to take the laxative cocktail to flush me out and prepare me for the procedure. My last lab work indicated that I continue to be anemic. I’m thinking I don’t eat enough steak. Dr. Pearce has to scope me out to see if I have an ulcer or membership in a vampire cult.

            By the way, I don’t know if you’re aware, but Dr. Pearce is one of the most interesting men I’ve met. I know, because I started asking him questions, in an attempt to deflect the conversation away from stuff I don’t talk about. I asked the good doctor when it was that he realized he wanted to be someone who gave colonoscopies. Junior High? He told  me that he originally wanted to be an artist, but his dad told him to lose the thought. There was no way an artist could make a living. But a doctor? After Ralph got his doctor’s degree, he could draw pictures in his spare time.

            Well, to please his dad, Dr. Pearce went to LSU where he got a degree in Medicine. I don’t know where he got his doctorate, or where he got his degree in Spiritual Psychology. I didn’t even know there was such a thing. The “mind” study somehow combines science with spiritual matters in an attempt to, uh, bring a little more light into life. Something like that. Dr. Pearce quoted Rumi, a 13^th Century Persian poet, who wrote, “Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I'll meet you there.” I thought Bob Dylan came up with that.

            And, get this. Dr. Pearce is an artist. The  man did manage to find time to paint and sculpt. He studied classical sculpture in Pietrasanta, Italy. It’s a place only artists would recognize. He studied classical art at the Florence Academy of Art. Not the one in Florence, Texas. I’m talking Italy. I told him I wanted to see some of his work, so he pulled out his cell phone to show me some photos. Phenomenal! When his mother died, he created a large bronze statue of a kneeling angel for her marker.

            He also showed me a marble sculpture of one of the ancients. Could’ve been Caesar. Maybe Spartacus. I can’t remember; he scrolled too fast. He also showed me two portraits that were wonderfully moving? Like he had captured each woman’s thought on canvas. I can barely do that with words.

            You know what’s weird? I’ll tell you what’s weird. Day after tomorrow, that master of art, mental awareness, and medicine is going to probe me from throat to nether region. Yep, he managed to change the subject on me. A tricky man, our doctor.

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