The "C" Word
Part 8
Bone Marrow Biopsy vs. Monte Python
The third noteworthy test was one which both Dave and I had done the same day, a bone marrow biopsy. In this procedure, the doctor drills into the pelvis at the point it joins the spine and removes some bone marrow with a syringe. It's done under a local, which takes some of the edge off the pain, but by no means eliminates it. It hurts like hell! At the end of this procedure I had a new definition of Hell.
This procedure was done in our room. Dave went first. We had to lay on our stomach as the test was done. The doctor drew the privacy curtain between the beds. I didn't see anything, but I heard it all. Dave was in agony. He didn't shriek or anything like that, but I could tell from the grunts, groans, and occasional stifled shouts that he was hurting bad. I was starting to sweat just thinking about it.
Then it was my turn.
I felt the pinprick of the hypo as I was injected with lidocaine. They waited for the area to get numb. Then Dr. Harris told me that I was going to feel a lot of pain. He apologized, and then started drilling.
Pain is an understatement. What he was doing would be condemned as a war crime if it were performed on a POW. I gritted my teeth, determined not to shout at the top of my lungs in response to my torment. I envisioned Torquemada drilling into the pelvis of his hapless victims, all the while exhorting them to confess. Then something happened, something totally absurd, but something that enabled me to get through the most excruciating ten minutes of my life. I said, "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!" I tried to sound just like John Cleese, but failed. Still, I had broken the spell. Humor became my line of defense. As I endured the most unbearable agony of my life, I cracked jokes. It became infectious. Dr. Harris started cracking wise as well. One of the nurses, also a Monte Python fan, said that if I didn't co-operate they would be forced to use the comfy cushion. And that is how I managed to tolerate my ten minutes in hell, by making jokes throughout. I discovered that when you can laugh at something, even pain, it loses its power over you.
The procedure lasted about ten minutes. I cannot begin to describe the relief I felt when it was all over. The body has a tremendous capacity to forget pain. I was uncomfortable now, but not agonized, and that was definitely an improvement. As I lay there getting my backside patched up, the nurse said that she had been doing these things for years, but nobody ever told jokes before. I replied that it was the only thing that kept me from crying.
The site of the biopsy remained painful for many years thereafter. It would lie dormant, only to be invoked by a chance impact or bad weather. I could reliably predict rain for several years. And some days my backside was so painful that I could not move. But this faded with time.
