It’s weird to not know for sure.
Let’s back up.
On Monday, in preparation for an endoscopy, I have a Covid test. It didn’t hurt, exactly. Instead, my body was hyper-aware that something was in a place it should not be. Thus, my body tensed up and freaked out. My eyes watered cause my sinuses were irritated–and I felt weird for a few hours.
But the test came back negative.
So I was cleared for yesterday’s procedure.
I have severe GERD, exacerbated by a hernia. I have bile reflux too. These problems, combined with a family history of esophageal cancer, mean we need to check me every few years.
The severe GERD meant they had to fully sedate me–they wanted to intubate. That meant, unfortunately, that everyone else in line for the procedure got to go first. It was a fasting test, so I just lay there, getting hungrier and thirstier for a few hours.
When they finally took me back, my IV line got jerked around a lot. My arm is still in bad shape. Also, who IVs on the TOP of the hand? The dominant hand?
I woke up with a sore throat, naturally, and got dressed. When I looked down at the hospital bed, I saw a wet spot. There was no smell or color, but my panties were a bit wet too.
Thus, like all classy ladies, I threw them in my bag and tried not to Sharon Stone anyone when I was getting wheeled out to the car.
Today, I’m wiped out, and my throat is still killing me. And it hurts to type, so I’m going to stop and take the rest of the day fully off.
But so far my panties are dry.
And I’m in my new tank top.
