Oh, how this one resonates with me!
Way back in December of 1985, I was scheduled for a kidney biopsy by the Nephrologist to whom I had been referred.
Asking him what to expect so I could cooperate, he said I would be face down on a radiology table after an ultrasound to locate the exact position of the kidney and depth from the surface.
He stressed he would go in 3 times for tissue samples, but it was imperative that when he commanded me to "HOLD MY BREATH," I had to do so -- explained if I inhaled with the extraction knife in the kidney, it would slice it open and I might very quickly bleed to death on the table --- okay....
Working in that hospital and perfectly at ease with Things Medical, I took that in stride, and the night before, lying in bed, decided to practice.
Took a deep breath and imagined the knife stabbing me in the back, and was horrified that almost at once the urge to BREATHE was tremendous! Within mere seconds, I *needed* to do so!
After the ultrasound and I was lying on the table waiting for Dr. Fox to start, Polly, the Radiology Supervisor and a good friend, sat down on a stool by my head and held my hand. While I really was not afraid of going through this, the gesture of comfort was appreciated.
When he was ready to plunge into the 'X' mark and said, "Hold your breath," without any volition on my part, I found myself serenely reciting the Twenty-third Psalm!!
By the second line he was through, and this was the scenario for the other two extractions as well.
Going with me on the elevator to the floor where I had to lie flat on my back for 24 hours, he explained the nurse would collect urine samples for several hours and line up the small glasses with each one on the window ledge for him to see the amount of blood that would leak from the entry points, to be sure it was diminishing.
If not, a trip to OR would be necessitated.
Contrary to the norm, God had touched the sites, and to his astonishment, there was not a single drop in any ---
