Frankly Franklin

Since the only deliveries at Weems these days are either floral arrangements, lab test results or FedEx packages, we here in Franklin County are denied the excitement that goes with the “the first baby of 2010.”

No bassinets for the new mom, no cigars for the dad, no years supply of Pampers of diapers from the IGA.

Still, it seems unfortunate to think Apalachicola’s hospital will not have some “first” for the new year it can boast about.

First heart attack? Too scary. Plus the recipient of such an honor may not feel comfortable with all the excitement. Forget that.

First stitches? Probably a child’s arm or leg, from playing with knives, or skateboarding. Turning this into a special community event might add insult to injury. Scratch that too.

First uncontrollable hiccoughing fit? Definitely a possibility, but I’m not holding my breath that a winner can be found. Or tolerated.

I do have a suggestion, though, for a first.

This is because I remember well, until I was put to sleep, the events of Jan. 3 and 4, 2010.

Those days were when I prepared for and received my first colonoscopy, which because it was the first one that particular morning, on the first Monday of the month, in the first month of the year, also qualifies as Weems’ first of 2010.

Isn’t that amazing? The very first one.

Break out the confetti and the horns. I am speechless.

Luckily I have jotted down just a few thank-yous for the many people without whom none of this would be possible.

And so, in receiving this award, for the hospital’s first intestinal scoping of the new year, I would like to first mention my registered nurse, Fran Bauer, who helped prepare me for my assignment by carefully outlining how the day before I would have to drink a gallon of GoLYTELY, an odd-tasting polyethylene glycol electrolyte solution, with four fruit-flavored packets to choose from.

In this solution lies a chemical with the wondrous power to turn the bowels into a mighty stream which, like righteousness, rolls down and out of your bottom like waters and makes you want to just stand up and shout.

And sit down, and stand up and shout again. Hallelujah.

Fran used to be an air traffic controller in Atlanta, but retired from that and now is on her second career living a quieter life with her husband in Apalachicola. I guess you could say she is now a rear water traffic controller.

She’s very good at what she does, covers the bases and answers your question, and has a bedside manner that made me feel like the liquid diet and ongoing cleansing was all worthwhile, because someone really cared about doing an endoscopic examination of my bowels.

And who is that someone? Dr. James Stockwell, a Tallahassee gastroenterologist, retired from the well-known Digestive Disease Clinic practice he founded 35 years ago.

But before we get to him, don’t let me forget to thank Jesse Pendergrast, the certified registered nurse anesthetist from Panama City who made sure I snoozed through the entire wondrous medical procedure that lets a doctor examine with fiber optics the lining of the colon to see if there’s a polyp or two that could be the first sign of a cancer.

Plus there’s Tammy Quinn, a licensed practical nurse who works as Stockwell’s assistant, fiddling with the controls of a top-flight piece of equipment. And there’s receptionist Joanna Page at the front desk, who showed a remarkably chipper bearing even as the clock was just striking 7 a.m.

I owe it all you.

Still, my biggest appreciation for receiving the “Weems first colonoscopy of the year award” has to go to the 68-year-old doctor who made it all possible.

Lucky for us we have a 40-year veteran of the medical arts working every Monday here at Weems, a former medical officer in the Navy who served in Vietnam during the height of the war, and still keeps in touch with some of his corpsmen. Attached at the time with a Marine unit, Lt. Stockwell got a piece of training in a war zone that had to be more challenging than the quiet corridors of a rural Panhandle hospital.

After completing a fellowship in gastroenterology at the University of Miami in 1974, Stockwell, an Ohio native, moved to Tallahassee and started a practice that would blossom into one of the region’s largest and best. He also became involved in shaping Leon County’s health care policies, and worked to create a wellbeing project for medical students.

“We don’t take good care of our colleagues or ourselves,” he said, noting that up to one-third of medical residents are diagnosed with depression. “We need to help young physicians avoid those things that would cause problems for them or their families. If he can be a better doctor, his family will do better and his patients will do better.”

Perhaps most importantly for us, though, Stockwell has inspired volunteer physicians though the “We Care” project, and now that he’s retired, has carried on that commitment towards going the extra mile.

Recognizing that small, rural hospitals often have to struggle with funding, and the ability to bring in top-notch specialists, Stockwell has reached out to Madison County, and now Franklin, to bring his services to bear on drawing a greater number of patients.

“These hospitals are to be commended because they are doing something for their community,” he said. “By keeping people here, you’re capturing some of the revenue that could be spent elsewhere, and that’s good economically.

“All health care is local. It’s just like your roads or your stoplight,” he said. “A healthy community is an economically viable community.”

The doctor also wants to beat the drum for colon screenings, and so far is doing anywhere from a couple to a half-dozen each Monday, with hopes of boosting the number of these and other procedures up to about a dozen..

“Colon cancer is a largely preventable disease or, if caught early, a largely controllable disease,” he said.

When I awoke, the doctor stopped by my bed and gave me the reassuring news that he had found no polyps. I was pleased. At least I know that, for the next five years anyway, there is no indication I will have to face the type of cancer that my father has triumphed over, thanks to surgery and chemotherapy.

I also am proud to have received this “Weems First Colonoscopy of 2010” award. It would have been nice to have woken from anesthesia wrapped in a bright blue bow, but I guess I can live without that.