2008 Woodie Awards
A second opinion
New hope comes for a student battling a chronic illness
Sarah Lavery
Issue date: 4/21/08 Section: Features
I've already memorized each poster on the wall of this doctor's office.
I know the one with the detailed picture of the gastrointestinal track like the back of my hand.
Liver. Gallbladder. Pancreatic duct. Transverse colon. Ileum.
I've already pointed out each disorder on the poster that I suffer from. Already stood up close to look at the images of strange bumps, ulceric wounds. Already pointed out each one that I have.
A breeze is hitting the window. The colors outside are just starting to turn green with early signs of spring. The people walking throughout Nashville's Hillsboro Village look happy, energized by the budding warm weather.
But in this room, the air conditioner is turned down perpetually too low. Aside from a lonely, sophomoric painting of a sailboat, the room is drab. Everything is a putrid shade of cream.
And all there is to do is wait.
This visit to the Vanderbilt Digestive Disease Center isn't out of the ordinary. It's a new doctor, one whom I've only met a handful of times after growing too old for the pediatric wing.
But I've grown so used to the waiting, the bad news, the pleas to try this new medicine or join that new medical research study. I've become so inured to it that these visits barely make me nervous.
My mom sits next to me, her eyes slowly closing and opening, her hands folded politely on her lap.
She's used to all this, too.
The quiet hum of the sterilized hallways, the intermittent yelps from patients who just had some blood drawn, the hurried footsteps of doctors and nurses walking past the door-the sounds almost feel like home.
My doctor finally walks in, a nurse trailing behind him. He's carrying a folder of my records, images from my colonoscopy the week before.
I barely remember what he told me after that procedure. Trying to fight off the remnants of sedation, I struggled to listen to his words.
Something about strictures-things are worse-couldn't even finish-steps need to be taken-bad, bad, bad.
I know the one with the detailed picture of the gastrointestinal track like the back of my hand.
Liver. Gallbladder. Pancreatic duct. Transverse colon. Ileum.
I've already pointed out each disorder on the poster that I suffer from. Already stood up close to look at the images of strange bumps, ulceric wounds. Already pointed out each one that I have.
A breeze is hitting the window. The colors outside are just starting to turn green with early signs of spring. The people walking throughout Nashville's Hillsboro Village look happy, energized by the budding warm weather.
But in this room, the air conditioner is turned down perpetually too low. Aside from a lonely, sophomoric painting of a sailboat, the room is drab. Everything is a putrid shade of cream.
And all there is to do is wait.
This visit to the Vanderbilt Digestive Disease Center isn't out of the ordinary. It's a new doctor, one whom I've only met a handful of times after growing too old for the pediatric wing.
But I've grown so used to the waiting, the bad news, the pleas to try this new medicine or join that new medical research study. I've become so inured to it that these visits barely make me nervous.
My mom sits next to me, her eyes slowly closing and opening, her hands folded politely on her lap.
She's used to all this, too.
The quiet hum of the sterilized hallways, the intermittent yelps from patients who just had some blood drawn, the hurried footsteps of doctors and nurses walking past the door-the sounds almost feel like home.
My doctor finally walks in, a nurse trailing behind him. He's carrying a folder of my records, images from my colonoscopy the week before.
I barely remember what he told me after that procedure. Trying to fight off the remnants of sedation, I struggled to listen to his words.
Something about strictures-things are worse-couldn't even finish-steps need to be taken-bad, bad, bad.
Viewing Comments 1 - 4 of 5
Brandon
posted 4/21/08 @ 12:01 AM CST
Page 3's link is missing. Can't read passed page 2.
J Strong
Janice Strong
posted 4/21/08 @ 10:21 AM CST
Kudos to Sarah for being the brave person she is to write her story. I found this to be a very interesting and informative article.
Janet Weinberg
posted 4/21/08 @ 5:08 PM CST
Your article was sent to me by a friend, a professor at MTSU and I thank you for the information. I have had Crohns for many years and surgery for removal of part of my intestine. (Continued…)
Jennie
posted 4/22/08 @ 1:07 PM CST
Wow..this article really touched me. It almost sounded like I was hearing my own life being played out. As a survivor of congenital heart disease and patient of VCH for the past 22 years, I completely identify with you. (Continued…)
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