Oesophagogastroduodenoscopy

What a mouthful.

I walked up the the receptionist at Guy's Hospital enquiring where the OGD suite is and he looked at me blankly.

So I tried to say it.

Oesoph...mumble... jumble... scopy.

I looked at him questioningly with a slight hint of arrogance.
If I could raise one eyebrow, now would be the perfect time to do it.
Unfortunately, I cannot, so I half pretend to, peering down at him under my lashes, head cocked to one side, looking as haughty as a UK tax payer with no confidence in the NHS can be.

Yes, I work as a doctor in the NHS so don't bloody judge me.
It pays my wages, I am happy(ish) with my job so I am allowed to comment.

Said receptionist (must be Filipino in origin) looks back at me with a look of confusion.

"Oesopha... You know... Your OGD suite!"

Same blank look.
Now, in my personal opinion, Filipino nurses that I have had the fortune to come across working with are normally top of their game.
Smart and conscientious enough to be doctors in my opinion and not afraid of doing extra work at any one time.

But this blank look from the receptionist about the location of a freaking OGD suite is not helping.
At all.

And I was already running late.

"Do you not have a oesopha...mumble...scopy suite????!!"

His look of confusion is replaced with a sudden light that can only mean a bulb being turned on in his internal hospital directory pages.

"You mean the ENDOSCOPY suite, maam. Yes down the corridor, Tower 2, 2nd floor, blue zone"

Right.
Endoscopy.
I will use this general term next time. (If I can remember it)
I am a doctor.
I am precise.
OGD is precise.

I track upstairs looking for the place, going over in my mind my choice of using the anaesthetic throat spray over sedation.

About April last year, during my A&E stint, I started developing severe retrosternal chest pain. Belching, early satiety, regurgitation of acid when I lie down.... all points towards a self diagnosis of acid reflux syndrome.
A severe one.

I attempted all sort of anti acid pills from omeprazole to pantoprazole to esomeprazole.. They gave me partial relief but the symptoms came back with vengeance the minute I stopped popping the pills.

November came and I decided it is probably time for me to have this investigated.

So gastroenterology clinic review and OGD arranged.

And this has led me to Tower 2, 2nd floor, blue zone.

A nurse comes to take my blood pressure and oxygen saturations and I changed into one of the blue hospital gowns.
Avant garde fashion.
She asks me what have I chosen for the procedure and I quickly pipe up - anaesthetic throat spray.
I would have preferred sedation ultimately, but that means I will need someone to come collect me as I am deemed to sleepy to make my way home safely, I will also have to lie quietly in the department til I am awake enough to leave, and in the end, that would mean a out-of-action Rachel for the rest of the day.

No way Jose.

Firstly, I have no one to come get me.
Secondly I have no time to sit and sleep in the endoscopy department.
And thirdly, I have a karaoke session that night.
Chop chop hun, no time for wasting with a bit of Midazolam sedation.

So I went all gung-ho and had the banana anaesthetic throat spray right into the back of my pharynx.

"Do not swallow for 10 seconds," says Filipino nurse No. 2 while he sprayed away.

No chance.
Cough, splutter, choke, I teared IMMEDIATELY.

Isn't an anaesthetic spray suppose to take away pain?! No, they cause pain first.
I should know this. I am an anaesthetist. Local anaesthetics are my playground.

But nevertheless, the sting and shock of it still hurt.

I was then told to lie on my side while a mouth guard was fitted in to prevent me from biting down onto the scope. Filipino Nurse then put a hand on the side of my face, physically holding me down so I do not raise my head above the bed.

Urghh.

An OGD is a mighty unpleasant experience.
The feel of something akin to the diameter of planet Earth shoved down your throat makes one drool, buck, gag and retch.
The worst thing is there is nothing you can do about it.
You cannot pull it out, you cannot puke it up, it is just THERE.
I can vouch for the fact that the banana flavoured local anaesthetic did toot all.

4 biopsies were taken, and I could feel each one being clipped out somewhere at the back of my chest wall.

I think my heart rate on the monitor must have gone up to about 500. Tears kept coming despite myself and.... you know what, next time (no more I mean) I will go for sedation.

I then had to wait for 1 hour for the results - and they were as I expected, oesophagitis, nil else.

Well, I left the department, mind as sharp as ever and had the best karaoke session that night.

At least now I know I am not brewing some nasty cancer nor have my stomach lining eroded away by vicious H.Pylori ulcers.

I guess I really am getting old.