Thursday at the Gimp Compound

Today was another Parts Replacement Day and all seems to have gone especially well. When I made this appointment to swap my feeding tube for a fresh one, I requested Doc A, mainly so that I would not get Doc B.

I got Doc C. (Yet another example of how a client of medical care must at all times be prepared to decide if she needs to make a stir or trust the moment or something else. It always seems to be ad lib.)

Doc A was doing something emergency-like, and I vaguely remember Doc C from when I was in hospital. In any case, one of the excellent support staff mentioned that he had, in fact, trusted Doc C with this procedure on his very own mother. The chatter between C and his staff about hockey relaxed me. Seriously, flying pucks, chipped sticks and dislocated shoulders are soothing and familiar discussion.

I didn't need to defend my use of this feeding tube to anyone (Doc A) and I didn't need to fear lack of expertise (Doc B). Also, they took great care to minimize the use of the poop-liquidizing contrast dye, so all is truly well. As my brother has said: "The key to life is a happy colon."