Meet my Gastroenterologist

Witty reparte - not my gift. Some people can banter back and forth with wittiness and I love listening to it, either in personal conversations between two people, in movies, or on T.V. I've always wished I had this gift, but I just don't think fast enough on my feet.

Today, I had a visit to a much-loved doctor that I haven't seen since I was pregnant with Daelyn. Dr. Schwartz, my gastroenterologist (or stomach doctor for those of you who don't speak Latin), is short, hairy, smiles and laughs often, has a memory that's one for the Guinness Book of World Records, talks fast, and always has one foot out the door while he's asking you if there's anything else you need to talk with him about. Although he's only a little older than me, he's an old-fashioned doctor who always returns his own phone calls. He's very funny and seems to be able to pull every little ounce of wittiness out of me.

I get extremely ill when pregnant. One of my doctors once described it as an allergic reaction to pregnancy hormone. I can't hold anything down, including water. I vomit constantly for my whole pregnancy and have to have I.V.'s to feed the baby. I take anti-nausea medicine that was developed for cancer patients who are undergoing chemotherapy and it only moderately works. During my first pregnancy, I also developed pancreatitis and had my gall bladder removed during my second trimester. There is only a 2-week window in pregnancy when this surgery can be performed. You have to be far enough along that the anesthesia won't damage the baby but early enough that your uterus hasn't grown so large as to block the gall bladder. Then, you have to be well enough that they can actually operate. They won't do the surgery if your liver enzymes fall within certain levels. Dr. Schwartz came to see me every day for the 6 months I was in the hospital, except for one day when he was out of town at a conference. He told me about it in advance and arranged for an associate of his to check on me. I have very good reason to think a lot of this doctor.

When I got pregnant with Daelyn (keep in mind I had Dane inbetween), I got a serious blood infection from my I.V. - strep. I kept telling the nurses and doctors, both in my OB/GYN's office and the emergency room which I visited several times, that there was something seriously wrong, but everyone said it was just the flu exacerbated by my pregnancy. It wasn't until 10 days after I had started feeling really sick that the blood culture turned up positive. By that time, infection was rampant in my body, affecting every system. I was very near death. They stopped all medications I had been taking and started me on one of the only two antibiotics for this type infection that can be used during pregnancy. After two days without my stomach medicine, I was in rough shape and asked my doctor to please call in Dr. Schwartz. That afternoon I heard my door open and saw a hairy arm from around the curtain. I knew he had arrived.

After exchanging pleasantries (how pleasant can you be when you're as sick as I was?) he told me that my OB had called and asked him if he remembered a patient by the name of Patti Doughty. "Do I remember George Washington? Do I remember Abraham Lincoln?" he asked. "Of course I remember Patti. She's not pregnant again, is she?" He told me this story, leaving out the last part. But when my OB came by later, she gave me the whole scoop.

He immediately started me on stronger I.V. stomach medicines and scheduled some tests. Gastroendoscopy is not much fun when you're pregnant. He also did a sonogram of my pancreas to be sure I wasn't having another bout with pancreatitis. He came in to check on me after the sonogram and the nurse was taking my vital signs. He quickly realized I couldn't answer him with a thermometer in my mouth, so he gleefully began asking me questions and laughing at my frustration with my inability to answer. Then he commented to my mother, who was with me at the time, that he had finally discovered a way to get me to stop talking!!

The next morning when my OB stopped by to check on me, she said she had seen Dr. Schwartz, briefly. She was standing in front of the elevators at another hospital going down when the one in front of her opened, going up. Dr. Schwartz was inside. He saw her and, before the elevator doors had closed, had given her a full report on the results of my sonogram. She laughed telling me this story. She was even surprised at how fast he talked and moved.

Today, his first questions on entering the treatment room was, "You're not pregnant, are you?" Later, as I was leaving, he reminded me that I could call him with any problems, then quickly added, "Unless, of course, you're pregnant again. Then I'm moving to Argentina." I told him that, just to see him sweat some day, I was going to call him and tell him I was pregnant. "If you do," he responded, "I'll tape it and play it for your husband."