So. Second colonoscopy a raving success. I'm sure many more people saw my butt than I'd rather think about, but all I know is that I was watching the guy inject the drugs into my IV and the next thing I know they were waking me up and telling me to get dressed.
Result: This time, only one polyp, which they will of course test. I don't have to have another colonoscopy for five years, barring any startling results from the lump they chopped out.
Reading the report they sent, I'm learning a few things I didn't pick up from the last time:
2. The polyp they found this time was "sessile," meaning fully attached and not dangling like some uvula appendage. I suppose that's a good thing, but I'm not sure. I don't remember whether the three polyps they found 3 1/2 years ago were sessile or not. Clearly I didn't lose sleep over it.
3. My prostate appears normal. I didn't know they checked for that while they were in there, but I guess it makes sense to look around the neighborhood.
4. Gary, my hemorrhoid, which had been acting up earlier in the week, appeared quiescent, and has apparently been joined by others that don't appear to be causing any trouble as of yet.
5. Whatever it is they put in the drugs to put you to sleep is good. I was watching them attach it to the IV, thought "That's interesti . . ." and then they were waking me up saying I should get dressed and that my son was there waiting to take me home.
So in all a good experience the second time around. Worst parts:
1. The prep. That stuff remains not fun.
2. Watching the nurse struggle to get an IV needle into a vein after I told her my veins like to run away.
Indy and Harry
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We're heavily into many things at our house, as is the case with many
houses. So here are the fruits of many hours spent with Harry Potter and
Indiana Jone...
Here at the End of All Things
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And another book blog is complete.
Oh, Louis Untermeyer includes a final collection of little bits -- several
pages of insults -- but they're nothing I hav...
Here at the End of All Things
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I’ve pondered this entry for a while now. Thought about recapping my
favorite Cokesbury Party Blog moments. Holding a contest to see which book
to roast he...
Christmas Box Miracle, The; by Richard Paul Evans. 261 pages.
Morbid Tase for Bones, A; by Ellis Peters. 265 pages.
Peanuts by the Decade, the 1970s; by Charles Schulz. 490 pages
Rakkety Tam, by Brian Jacques. 372 pages.
Rickover Effect, The, by Theodore Rockwell. 411 pages.
Road to Freedom, The; by Shawn Pollock. 212 pages.
There's Treasure Everywhere, by Bill Watterson. 173 pages.
Trolls of Wall Street, The; by Nathaniel Popper, 339 pages.
Undaunted Courage, by Stephen E. Ambrose. 521 pages.
Read in 2025
Diary of A Wimpy Kid Hot Mess, by Jeff Kinney. 217 pages.
Ze Page Total: 217.
The Best Part
Catch You Later, Traitor, by Avi
“Pete,” said Mr. Ordson, “we live in a time of great mistrust. This is not always a bad thing. People should question things. However, in my experience, too much suspicion undermines reason.”
I shook my head, only to remember he couldn’t see me.
“There’s a big difference,” he went on, “between suspicion and paranoia.”
“What’s . . . paranoia?”
“An unreasonable beliefe that you are being persecuted. For example,” Mr. Ordson went on,” I’m willing to guess you’ve even considered me to be the informer. After all, you told me you were going to follow your father. Perhaps I told the FBI.”
Startled, I stared at him. His blank eyes showed nothing. Neither did his expression. It was as if he had his mask on again.
“Have you considered that?” he pushed.
“No,” I said. But his question made me realize how much I’d shared with him. Trusted him. How he’d become my only friend. And he was the only one I hoad told I was going to follow my dad. Maybe he did tell the FBI.
He said, “I hope you get my point.”
Silcence settled around us. Loki looked around, puzzled.
Mr. Ordson must have sensed what I was thinking because he said, “Now, Pete, you don’t really have any qualms about me, do you?”
Yes, perlious times then. Who to trust? And perlious times now, with paranoia running even deeper than during the Red Scare . . .
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