In Blue Nights, a 2011 book in which Joan Didion struggles to come to terms with her daughter’s death, she relates how, when she was briefly hospitalized herself, doctors urged her to undergo a medical procedure:
I recall resisting: since I had never in my life been able to swallow an aspirin it seemed unlikely that I could swallow a camera.
“Of course you can, it’s only a little camera.”
A pause. The attempt at briskness declined into wheedling: “It’s really a very little camera.”
In the end I did swallow the very little camera, and the very little camera transmitted the desired images, which did not demonstrate what was causing the bleed but did demonstrate that with sufficient sedation anyone could swallow a very little camera.