Dear Grandchildren,
You want an anatomy of my third throat procedure in this fair land? No? Yes? I’ll tell you anyway. It started by standing on the bus most of the way to the Dokuz Eylül University Hospital. Sway, sway; jerk, jerk. Then, in the doctor’s office, I was asked to sign a bunch of forms, as I was in the past. But this time my attention caught on the form that would allow the doctor to perform a tracheotomy. Whaaat? Oh yeah. In the case of an emergency. I signed.
The botox delivery guy came just before 10 a.m., almost an hour after I arrived. The botox was on ice in a container, having arrived on some kind of motorized bike. The fellow wanted his money (about $100 for 100 units) but could not give me a receipt. Such receipts were to be given only to medical personnel, I was told. But his piece of paper for the delivery was close enough. At least I hope so. I shall need it for reimbursement when we arrive home.
Finally, I was escorted into the room where I had gone for earlier procedures. I sat in the reclining chair. The doctor could not get it to recline. He pushed and pulled. So he asked one of his husky assistants to make the chair go backwards. With a little effort, he lowered it with two big clangs. Later, when I was trying to relax in the chair, the assistant took it back one more click. Actually, as before, it was a very big click, almost like a shot. I fell back a few inches into the waiting folds of the chair. Now, according to the doctor, I should have been in a good, comfortable position. Ok.
The first thing the doctor did was to pour a dark liquid on a gauze pad and rub it all over my throat. It was an anesthetic, of course. Next, he sprayed the awful tasting numbing agent into my mouth (bleckkkk!) and one of the assistants sprayed something into my nostrils. The doctor and his two assistants then prepared the camera and its light that would be poked through my right nostril. Poke. This time, the intern would hold the tube in such a way that it did not keep moving inside my throat. (Unlike last time.) Instead, it stayed steady and I only did one big gag, almost ejecting all the stuff then in my throat.
At one point, the doctor grabbed my Adam’s Apple and held it firmly for a minute or so. Not to miss the fun, one of the interns then did likewise. For a moment, it felt as if that part of my anatomy would come loose from my neck muscles. Fortunately, my neck resisted and held on. Like a good friend. Is my neck sore? Yes. And if experience is a teacher, it will be sore for another eight or ten days.
Then came the shots before the shots. These initial intrusions into my skin were to deaden the tissues through which the botox shots would travel and burst. I was now numb inside and outside my neck. Next the light and camera went into my nose, lighting up all that stuff in there that I never look at. Besides, the camera and its associated TV screen must be pretty expensive. I am not in the market for such things. My curiosity about my nose and throat is not bigger than my pocketbook.
During the earlier two procedures, the doctor learned that he has to let me swallow when he can. Otherwise, all my efforts not to swallow only collapse into failure; and I swallow, even though he protests. So he was very helpful this time in allowing me to swallow multiple times before pushing the botox needle into my neck. As I have observed before, the office lacks one of those cute nurses who holds a suction tube and takes out all of the excess fluids and paraphernalia that, after a person’s throat has been attacked by foreign objects, begin to pour like a fire hose into the open space that is usually called a mouth but at this instant is just a filling, soggy hole.
Three. In the end, it was three shots into my neck. I thought it was to be two. But the doctor determined that I should receive three of those little darlins. Perhaps the three would use up more of the botox and not let so much go to waste. I did see him draw a bunch into a large syringe and press the plunger until a spray shot out of the end of the needle and dampened one of the interns.
After twenty or so minutes, it was over. I finally could exhale and relax, although I had been trying to relax throughout the process so that the discomfort would not overpower me. "Tell me when you feel uncomfortable," the doctor had said. Each time he said that, I was feeling discomfort in that moment. It was no use for me to say anything. Besides, foreign things were in my mouth and I could do no more than barely nod my head and gurgle. After another fifteen minutes in the doctor’s office, sitting on an uncomfortable chair, I was told I could go. I was glad to emerge into the sunlight and look for my bus.
Not surprisingly, the whole experience left me with a greatly reduced voice. But I have more voice than a whisper, unlike the prior two times when I could hardly hear myself. Time will tell whether the doctor’s current effort will pay off. His work the other two times gave me almost six months of reasonably good voice, a longer time period than when I have received treatments at the UofU Medical Center. That is both worth noting and unexpected in a good sense.
***
I love it that we are regularly kicking down the door to a 30+ average attendance at our Sacrament Meetings. That image, of kicking, is a little bizarre, I admit. And I should probably hold back on strong images in favor of mild, more genial senses. Yet, in a word, in the language of Ammon, even after his brother Aaron had taken him to task for almost boasting, Ammon almost sang, "behold, my joy is full, yea, my heart is brim with joy, and I will rejoice in my God. . . . Behold, who can glory too much in the Lord?" (Alma 26:11, 16). I readily admit that we are not dealing in the numbers that Ammon and his brothers did. But even a little success is good.
Despite my sometimes bugling efforts, and despite our small numbers, we have begun to witness the resurrection of a branch that took it on the chin more than four years ago and basically shrunk to nothing overnight. Then, in the months before we arrived, a SV couple began to meet with a tiny group of members once a month, planting all-important seeds. We arrived just in time for a modest harvest and an extended period of growth.
We greeted 34 persons in our Sacrament Meeting today, twenty in the hotel room and fourteen connected by Skype. We have equaled or surpassed thirty each of the Sundays in February. Throughout January we were close four of the five Sundays after hitting thirty or more three times in November and December. Of course, our numbers today were augmented a little by the presence of an SV couple who had come to visit from Ankara. And to speak. They effectively replaced my two missing counselors who were absent (both to be back next week, I hope). I felt that in our branch council meeting we stretched the branch into the future so that it will do fine after our departure. At least, I am hoping for that result. I don’t want to walk out the door without nailing down as many pieces as Grandma and I can.
It is hard to believe that we shall see only three more Sundays in this town. But that is what it has all come to. Our big challenge, I judge, will be to make all the visits to members who live at a distance from here. (We have one set up for Wednesday). Added to that set of tasks are the extra events that are coming at us, like a branch conference and a zone conference in Istanbul. We intend to weather the surges and be glad that we were part of the group of needed people here.
We have begun to set out clothing to leave in a donation bin, and to take with us. We shall probably travel with a packed piece of luggage to Istanbul next month in advance of our departure so that we don't have to haul it the day we leave here (Monday, the 20th). Sort of like moving in bits and pieces. We will stay overnight in Istanbul the night before departure to enjoy a nice meal with the PM and wife and the three YVs who are departing with us. What seemed to be a long way off is suddenly becoming a high speed blur.
I love you and pray for you all.
Grandpa Brown
No comments:
Post a Comment