It's great to be alive, n'est-ce pas?

When I walked into the prep room I remembered it from 4 years ago when Ellen Shaw, my then-gastro, insisted I get a colonoscopy. I am not your modern woman who wants to get every fucking test ever invented to preserve life.

Now, however, if I want a kidney transplant I've gotta get every test they order for me.

The endo was performed by the absolutely adorable Dr D. I think he's from Columbia but has no accent. We like when we can understand the speech of our doctors. I call him Dr D. I also fish for information cuz I'm interested in other people. He's gonna drive to Yankee Stadium over the weekend to watch his team play.

You know what? This is amazing. I have a character in my novel, a fellow from Ecuador, but he looks almost exactly like Dr D. I kept saying to myself, whenever I read my description of the Ecuadorean, he looks like someone I know but I can't figure out who it is. Like Dr D, he's a Yankee fan.

A row of curtained-off patients wait for instructions on how to prepare for the test like changing into the blue hospital gown made by a company named Nixon. Then Nurse Monica starts the IV which, among other things, will contain the anesthesia.

I tried not to think about it, so kept talking.

Scott waited in the waiting room. You must arrive with a driver.

Then I was wheeled into the Procedure Room. Let's capitalize it like the Germans do. Schaudenfreude. Is that right, Bendesky? Doubtful.

Diane Mann was my anestheseologist. I have no idea how to spell this long word even though as the whole world knows I was the spelling champ of Mercer Elem School in Shaker Heights. I won a pen.

I know one anesthesiologist who quit the profession many years ago cuz she almost killed the person b/c she got distracted.

So, Desiree is in there, she's a tek, and Nurse Monica and Diane Mann and then in walks Dr D.

Ruth, he says w/enthusiasm, how ya doing?

Great, I said.

I really was. I had a very restful night, watching a Sergio Leone slow-moving western with unbelievably great acting. I ate plenty of delicious watermelon and cherries the day before. I did amazing work pushing forward my new difficult project, which is reforming a local mental health center, so I'm always at the ready for a quick painless death. Though I'd prefer not.

A blood pressure cuff is on my arm, oxygen is being pumped into my nostrils, and the IV is on my right arm.

They ask my name, birth date, and what procedure I'm getting.

They put a plastic ring in my mouth, sort of like Grace's binky, except it's hollow. They'll insert the tube down there.

I try not to think about it.

I hear Dr Mann ask when she should start the anesthesia. Now, says De La Torre.

Good, I think. Let's get this over with.

Nurse Monica blows it by saying, Think pleasant thoughts.

Oh my god, I think to myself, whatever am I gonna think about. I feel a twinge of panic coming on and tell them I'm feeling nervous. They reassure me and that's all I remember.

I wake up in the recovery room. The doc comes in and says, Good news, Ruth. You don't have portal hypertension.

This is very good news cuz it clears one of the hurdles for the possibility of my kidney transplant.

I try not to think about it.