What could a colonoscopy possibly have to do with an adoption? Well, stick with me and I will tell you...
Today I am prepping for my third colonoscopy in 6 years. I am used to them by now and almost welcome them because once it is over, I know I will not have to do it for another two years .. kinda like Jury Duty. The first one I did was not the big deal I thought it would be. The prep was relatively easy, but they did find a polyp so this is why I have repeat the procedure every two years. (Better safe than sorry, right?) The second one was much more difficult when it came to the prep for the procedure. I got violently ill from the solution that I had to drink and spent much of the night before throwing up. That nausea even spilled over to the morning of the procedure at the hospital. When you are in a hospital bathroom and people are asking if you are okay, well that is a HUGE sign that my body was not at all happy with me!
So since I had done one previously, I was privy to what was to come once I was lying on the gurney that would take me to the procedure room. One thing that I know, and always have know about myself, is that I do not do well with anesthesia. I get down right MEAN! When I was five I had my tonsils removed and what a BEAR I was after that surgery. I threw things across the room, much to the dismay of the patient that was next to me because I think I hit her with several Kleenex boxes and a plant. I did not intend on hitting her, but she was there and in my line of fire. I said mean things to my mom, my aunt and especially the nurses and doctors. It became clear that my body just did not like the reaction to anesthesia, and my mother was more than happy when it finally worked it's way out of my system.
I knew that there was a chance that I would wake up dazed and generally pissed off because of the drugs coursing through my veins. But that is not what happened. I remember waking up with about seven people staring down at me, some with tears streaming down their faces, some with huge smiles and I noticed that I was talking a mile a minute. I was a bit confused as to why they were so emotional as they wheeled me to the recovery room. I was still talking but had no clue what it was that I was saying. To me, I sounded like the Peanuts Teacher ... Whaaa waaa waaa whaaaa is what I heard, but clearly I was making sense to them because some of the nurses were smiling through their tears with looks on their faces like I was an angel or something. Was I dead? Were they aware of something that I wasn't regarding my procedure? My eyes felt funny and I could not concentrate.
Once in the recovery room, I slowly came to enough to remember where I was and why I was there. One of the nurses that was next to me crying came back in to check on me. I asked her ..."What did I say? Why was everyone crying and so emotional a few minutes ago?" She looked down at me and smiled a very sweet smile. "You told us your story about how you are a birth mother ... and you had not received pictures of your twins in a couple of years ... and two days ago you got a package with not only pictures, but a letter as to how they were doing. Your story just touched us all, me especially. I have never known a birth mother and it just seems that you are so at peace with your decision and the lives of your children. The fact that you have known your daughter all her life ... and she was in your wedding ..." she could not finish. Her eyes were all misty again and she just smiled and patted my arm.
There were more faces that checked in on me, all of them with that look of amazement and to some extent, appreciation. The doctor came in to give me the low down on what they did not find (Thank Goodness!) and he said to me ..."What have you done to my staff? They are all emotional out there and it would seem that you are the STAR of the day. They cannot stop talking about you." I smiled and I explained that this time instead of the anesthesia making me mean, it must have acted as a truth serum because I told them my life story and all about my children that I placed for adoption. He said that he knew, he had asked one of the nurses what his patient did to turn his staff into a crying mess. He said, "Well, from one parent to another let me just say that you are one brave woman to have done that. I hold nothing but the highest regard for parents that make that decision for their children. I know a few adopted people and they are amazing folks. So thank you for touching my staff today, and thank you for touching me as well. You have a clean bill of health and I say go out and live your life. You deserve all the happiness that comes your way."
I thanked the doctor and the embarrassment that I felt for unloading my life story on complete strangers began to slip away. I was surprised that I had told them all so much, but later when I thought about it, well it made sense to me. Getting those pictures was in my subconscious and since it had been so long since I had seen the boys faces I guess I was just releasing my happiness that their parents still thought of me. They could not have know that I was having a procedure that stressed me out beyond most stress outs I have. And there is no way they could have know just how much those pictures would lift my heart after such a long period of time between contact. And I could have never of known just how much my little story would touch all of those people in that recovery room. But it did. And maybe, just maybe some of them needed to hear that story to understand a little better what adoption means for a mother who chose to walk without her children, who chose to let them go in order to give them a chance in their lives.
So, let's hope that this round of anesthesia is the same way and instead of making me mean it will make me inspire another to smile and to feel the love that one has for their children, even if they are far ... far away.