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Blogging With Louise

Louise's Medical Adventure

Louise Sorel got a little more than she bargained for when she met a DAYS fan where she least expected to!
This will be easy, I've been here before. They are welcoming, the office is small and cozy. The girls at the desk are warm and friendly. I know where to put my coat now and where to go after the procedure to have a bite to eat. The office is just off Lexington Avenue, near Bloomingdales, in case you want to do a little shopping as well, "après le deluge."

"Hello, I'm Louise and I have an appointment with Dr. Grant for an endoscopy."

I hear my voice and suddenly play it out as "Hello, I'm Louise and I'm an alcoholic."

There goes my warped sense of humor. I hang up my lightweight summer Gap jacket and am given some forms to fill out. I take a seat on the comfy wine-colored fabric chair.

"Ms. Sorel?" I hear, much too soon.

"Yes, thanks." Thanks? Oh well, it never hurts to honey up the nurse.

"You can change in here."

There is that cute little cubicle with smart paper gown. Open in the back this time around. And just as I am ducking in, a man donned with a yarmulke, quietly dressed says "Have you been here in the last few days?"

"No," I respond. "Sorry."

"Gosh, I know your face from somewhere." This is when I exit the cubicle in my Yves St. Laurent paper gown!

"Yes, maybe," I say, head down and heading for the intimate, familiar room from a year ago.

"Wait a minute, I know, I know, it's TV or a soap isn't it?"

Caught! Guilty!

"Yes," I say. "DAYS OF OUR LIVES."

"Oh, of course," he says, relieved, smiling and offering his hand to
introduce himself as my anesthesiologist!

Oh God, I think, he's too wound up, he could put the needle in my foot instead of my arm.

He ushers me in to the room and onto the gurney and asks me to sit up, to which I respond, "No, I don't do that! I only lie down for IVs and I do not want to see any instruments of torture, any Boys from Brazil toys."

"Well then, let's get started and put you at the other end of the gurney. Just turn around and relax."

"You relax! And please think of me as the cowardly lion combined with and an hysterical four year old, ok?"

I now comply and feel that dab of cold alcohol in the crease of my arm. I happen to have very good veins, or shall we say I did until my new fan, Dr. Anesthesiology, came along.

As he pokes the needle into my vein, I inquire if this is his first time.

"No, no he says, I've done thousands of these."

Ouch, I yelp, my foot doing a Linda Blair spin.

"Gee," he says, "I was really upset when Hope left the show!"

"SHE DIDN'T!" I yelp. "Bo left and then came back."

I can't believe I'm actually having this conversation at this particular time.

"Well, I didn't like the new Bo, I liked the old one," I hear him stating empathetically, as he is jamming the needle in.

Now the nurse enters and says, "She should have her head at the other end.

I now have an IV, electrocardiogram stickers on my person and I'm supposed to turn around with my head in the other direction.

Easy now, nurse says and they flip the wires and cables and me.

Determined to do this eyes wide shut, I unfortunately get a glimpse of the terminator machine being cradled by Dr. Mengele as I spin around. And then a cup is scooped into my mouth and if I could have made a run for it I would have — but too late, blotto! Blip! Good-bye and I'm gone.

It has just occurred to me, as I lay me down to sleep why I am here. Dr. Anesthesiologist has sidetracked me with gossip on DAYS OF OUR LIVES. I have a series of stomach problems and reflux. This was the only way to find out if I was repeating a previous ulcer attack.

Much to my joy and surprise, I was. Only now I have outdone myself and have five little ulcers and how did they grow? STRESS I GUESS.

Just before the doctor shared those slimy, graphic photos of my esophagus and stomach, Dr. Anesthesiologist asked if he could tell his wife about our "encounter."

"Sure," I said. "What the hell."


It wasn't until later, when I noticed the black and blue patch on my arm, where my very good veins are, that even vague celebrity, at times, does not serve you well. Dr. Anesthesiologist was clearly too preoccupied with his foray into daytime drama.


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