So, on Friday, I went in for a bone marrow biopsy. I had been given a prescription for Lorazepam, which Dr. Rick called "happy pills," to make me loopy and relaxed so I wouldn't feel much pain. So, Noelle and I got there at 9:30 for the procedure, I having already taken the first Lorazepam pill at 9:00, per doctor's orders. At around 9:40, I was taken back to have my blood drawn. As they were taking 5 viles of blood from me, they asked if I'd taken either or both Lorazepam pills. I told them I had taken one at 9:00. I was told, "Oh...it typically takes about 45 minutes for them to start taking effect, and that's about when you want to take your second one." So after drawing my blood, they had me take the second pill, then they ushered me back to Room 11 to wait for the doctor who would perform the procedure.
I waited for a while, but he finally came and asked me how I was feeling, and I told him "fine." He paused and said, "OK, well, let's get under way." I lied down on my front side on the table and pulled my pants down just a couple of inches to expose the area to which he needed access. Now... someone had told Noelle and I that the shot to inject lidocaine to numb me up would be the worst part of the procedure. I have one thing to say to them... LIAR!!! The shots were no problem at all. I figured, "wow... if that's the worst part, this shouldn't be bad at all." Well, the shots weren't the worst part.
The next thing I know is I feel some pressure - obviously the needle going through the skin, fat, muscle, etc, on it's way down to the top-rear of the pelvic bone - no pain, though. And then... WHAM-MO!!! The needle goes through the bone! Yikes. "Phew! I'm glad that's over," I think. Then the doctor says, "Now, you're going to feel some discomfort as I remove some marrow." TRANSLATION: "You're going to wish we had made you a lot more numb." I felt like crying and immediately began to sweat profusely as the first bit of marrow was extracted. I literally felt it being sucked through the bone from the lower-outside portion up to the top. It was only as he was about done that I became aware that I had been uttering a prolonged groan from deep, deep within my body through the whole thing. Then the doctor has the nerve to say something like, "We're almost done. You're doing great." I think that's when I told him and the nurse that I was feeling like I was about to puke all over the wall I was facing. That's how "great" I was. They put some kind of puke bucket next to me and I held it next to the table for the duration of the procedure.
Next, the doctor said, "Now I'm just going to get a little bit of the bone to add to the biopsy. You will feel some pressure." TRANSLATION: "You're going to wish we had knocked you out completely in a second." Then, I feel this awful KA-CHUNK! Though I'm sure it was a very specialized surgical instrument, it felt as though chisel and mallet were at work. KA-CHUNK! KA-CHUNK! KA-CHUNK! KA-CHUNK! At least five times, maybe six, before the sadist had finished his work. "Alright, we're done," he said casually.
I've passed out twice in my life - once, when I was incredibly stressed at work; the other, when I was malnourished, dehydrated and performing on stage in China. I was sure this would be my third time, but somehow, I stayed alert throughout, much to my chagrin. After bandaging me up and turning me over on my back to add some pressure to the wound and help the bleeding stop, the nurse asked me if I'd like them to bring in my wife. I said yes, and they went to get her. When she came in and saw me sweating and with a cool cloth over my head, I knew I looked bad. She tried to sound calm, but I could see it in her face. I looked about how I felt. She then told me that while I was going through all this, she was getting a 15-minute seated massage in the lobby. Nice.
Anyway, when I finally lost my nausea I got my own massage and we went home. I'm so glad it's over. Those darned "happy pills" didn't bring me much happiness, that's for sure. They say a man can never tell a doctor he's at a '10' when asked to rate the level of their pain on a 1 to 10 scale. I'm convinced that I now know what a '10' feels like. If it turns out that I need to receive a bone marrow transplant, I will ask to be knocked out completely, as there's no way I want to go through that pain again.
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