January 2001                                                                     The Megaphone                                                                              Page 7

  I've got to admit, I've had more fun at a picnic in the rain.

  Well, here I am and feeling very comfortable.  I write this from a waiting room in the hospital. Ooopps...now in a bed in an out patient holding area. An IV's been started, a blood pressure cuff on and a thingy on my finger that measures oxygen levels.

  I told the technicians that work here that it's too bad Erma Bombeck didn't write something funny about this procedure. "Well, you write it," I heard. So, being my name's Julie, I "jump" right in.

  In a hospital gown and my own purple socks, I'm allowed to keep my watch, reading glasses and pocketmail. They're all fascinated with it.

  It's 8:10. My procedure is scheduled for 8:30.  Gosh, I hope they're on time. If they keep me busy, maybe I won't get nervous.

  OOOOOOooo, just got an extra blanket . . . feels so good. UUUmmmmmm, guess I could lay here and count the ceiling tiles . . . Oh, how fun.   : (

  Why on earth the air-conditioning is running when I'm sitting here with no clothes is beyond my understanding. That extra blanket must have been kept in the refrigerator!!! I can see the sunshine outside the window but it doesn't make it as far as me.

  An observation . . . everyone has a picture ID. I keep looking at them.  I think they must throw them all in the same drawer at night and the next morning just grab any ol' one . . . not important which one. As I look closely, I can't see a likeness to match anyone here.

  On my gurney (bed on wheels) is an "almost" pillow. I've folded it in thirds . . . now it's a hard rock under my head.  Where do you suppose they find pillows like that?

  Geeeee, it would be nice if they had pictures on the walls. NOTHING TO LOOK AT!!!

  Oh boy, someone pulled my curtains shut. How am I going to keep an eye on things like that???

  I hear water dripping . . . actually it's my very slow heartbeat on a monitor. Yeh, always slow. That always freaks them out. It's always funny watching "them", for the first time, as they discover it's normal for me. Because I've been athletic, especially in my earlier years, my heart naturally beats much, much slower than most people.

  While we're waiting for "them" to come for me, I write to you.

  Because preventive medicine has become so very important this day in age, my doctor has ordered several tests, called "point in reference" tests. They hopefully will be the normal results all others will be measured against in the future. It seemed like a good and reasonable idea at the time.  Second thoughts are creeping in right now.

  Finally, after what seems like hours of waiting "they" come for me. Now tell me, why on earth do "they" always have you come in so darn early and wait and wait? Maybe they want you nervous for their secret reasons. What lurks behind those perky little smiles and in the hearts of hospital workers???

  We roll down the corridor as I watch the ceiling go by. This ride seems so silly to me as I can ably walk.  Finally, a sharp turn and we are in "The Room." There are no windows, guess that's OK, considering what they're going to do. We wait some more. A doctor I've never met comes in, introduces himself and shakes my hand.

  Let's stop here for just a moment. Think about it for a second. Do you realize how funny this scene is? I was feeling perfectly fine . . . before the test began. (Oh ya, it started last night by drinking one gallon of awful liquid.) OK, I WAS feeling fine. Now I'm laying on a gurney, a dinky hospital gown and half sheet covering me.  Golly, it's just me and my purple socks.

  This tall stranger comes in and wants to SHAKE MY HAND! He then proceeds to tell me to lay on my side.  I comply.  Well, at least there are three TVs to watch . . . goody.  I think they must be for guys to watch three ballgames at the same time.
    

  The procedure begins, "Breathe and breathe deep," I'm told.

  To get my mind off what he's doing I decide to watch some TV. Well darn, all the TVs are showing the same movie. What's this? It must be a science fiction . . . I've never seen a tunnel like that on this planet!  I wonder where it goes as it twist and turns and goes on for miles and miles. I guess, whoever is in the tunnel changes their mind because I now see they must be backing up all the way to the entry.

  I hear the doctor say "That's it, we're finished." Well, I sure am glad, the movie wasn't any good anyway!

  I'm allowed to dress and after a few instructions, I leave. I was told the test went very well and I am free of anything suspicious. Another test will not be needed for five years . . . thank God!

  Yes, there was humor there and I concentrated on that. But the fact is, this test is deadly SERIOUS. It was a colon test for cancer.  Colon cancer strikes thousands of Americans each year.  If you are 60 or over and never had one . . . tell your doctor. You need it now! Not doing so is no different that putting a loaded gun to your head and playing Russian roulette. Would you do that? Of course not.

  Colon Cancer is not pretty. Ask two of our very own Denites, John '57 and Kay '58 Downham.  John is seriously battling this dreaded enemy everyday.  Here he is, just retired, ready to enjoy the good life and WHAM! This couple is being cheated out of the good life as I write this. Will their life resume when he is cured?  Will he be cured? Only God has those answers.  In the meantime they make the best of each day, rediscovering so many small pleasures in life, enjoying family and loved ones and . . . each other.

  Talk to you doctor . . . or your parents and grandparents.  Pulling together...the family that we are, here on the Den . . . let's help each other and tell this disease . . . HE IS NOT WELCOME HERE . . . !!!

Thank you,
Julie (Stout) Duffitt  '57
Snowbird in Yuma, AZ