Just the scoop, poop: Colonoscopies for Fun

Believe it or not, I've had an actual request for the story of my colonoscopy. How could I NOT post something that delicious? I thought I had written about it before, as it is one of my absolute favorite stories of all time, but it appears all that poop talk has never contained an actual dissertation on the infamous poop chute invasion. (All that poop talk and not the colonoscopy story? Sheesh! Maybe I've just forgotten where I hid that story in the blog. Alas, I will gladly tell it again. If it already exists, it will be fun to see if I tell the same story....)

This will NOT be for the squeamish or faint of fart--I mean heart, I promise.

I decided to get a screening for colon cancer because all these maternal relatives seem to have problems with their poop chutes. Why let cancer lurk in the bowels--literally--when you can have a garden hose shoved up your ass?

I made the appointment with the gastroenterologist (or however you spell it, no offense to him) and went to the "pre-poop-search" educational experience. That's where you sit in a room with about 20 other 105-year olds and they show you an educational video on what it will be like to have said garden hose shoved up your ass. This is also the time they provide you with the prescription to get the medication that will make poop shoot out of your butt like there is no tomorrow and when they try and explain what the "twi-light" drug will be like. The video was boring and not-at-all very enlightening, but in some ways, I suppose that was a good thing. The one thing the nurse stressed over and over and over was that once you drank this stuff you should NOT veer from the bathroom. Not for one millisecond. As a terminally constipated person, this sounded like sheer pleasure to me. Nothing shoots out of my butt unless it is the consistency of concrete. She also kept saying that we were not to use red liquid to mix our concoction nor were we to eat red or orange jello. I guess it makes things look red and bloody in there. I was all good with that, as I am not a jello fan in any sense. The nurse also talked about how we will be up all night having bowel movements. There's a fun night! (Go ahead, lady, say it--YOU'RE ALL GOING TO BE SHITTING YOUR BRAINS OUT ALL NIGHT!) They handed me my appointment card--2 PM! I wouldn't be able to eat after 5 PM and my colonoscopy wouldn't be until 2 PM. That sounded like torture--I eat on the hour and so I already start to feel hungry--but I took the card with minimal whine and focused on the fun on not being full of poo for a change.

I take my prescription, pick up my powder of joy, pick up some Crystal Lite and Gatorade (yellow, so not to look bloody and red) and head home. I mix up the GALLON of liquid I will now have to drink and let the drinking begin.

Do you know what it is like to drink a gallon of anything? Especially when you are drinking a gallon of something that really doesn't taste very good and must be consumed in a short duration of time?

It is not fun. (Side note: I never want to drink Lemon Crystal lite again in my ENTIRE LIFE.)

I suppose had I started shitting like they said I would, I might not have felt so miserable. But, no. My concrete insides let that gallon of liquid soak. So, there I sat on the bathroom floor, waiting for what the nurse described, feeling like a bloated, sick pig, miserable because there is a gallon of liquid in me and nothing is coming out. Either end.

After two or three hours of remaining in this condition, I decide to go to bed. I figured I'd wake up when it was "time." I curl up next to the wife and pray that something starts to happen because that gallon of goop is curdling in my belly.

Then, it finally happens. FIVE HOURS LATER, I wake with a small rumble in the gut. I am so excited I want to scream with joy. PLEASE let something come out of there! And, so things start to flow--slowly, at first; picking up steam as the night went along.

Soon, things were coming out of there that I had never seen. I peered into the toilet and what do I see floating in the rubble? Corn! This confuses me, as I have literally not eaten corn in over SIX WEEKS! That's some mighty old corn floating around in there! This makes me laugh out loud. God knows what else that crap is....it was fascinating in all the wrong, disgusting ways. I should have taken pictures.

Now, most people would have been done with the pooping aspect of a colonoscopy within hours. Not me. It was slow going after a late start. Maybe they knew something when they gave me that appointment time. I was still pooping as I was walking out the door to go to the appointment.

As the wife was busy working, I had a co-worker take me to the appointment. (A coworker with a fine respect for poop, I might add.) I filled out the form, promised I hadn't taken any contraband medications, put my little gown on, laid on the gurney with my butt cheeks hanging out. A really, really nice nurse comes in to start the IV and I say, "oh, I won't need that; I'm going to stay awake for the procedure."

She looks at me like I'm crazy. I assure her I really do want to remember this and take part of this (as I am one sick puppy). The nurse indicates this is a very unusual request, adding that she will have to ask the doctor. I'm all good with that. She returns and reports the doctor has agreed. Still, she must start a saline IV "just in case" I should change my mind during the procedure.

I am SO not going to change my mind! If someone is going to stick a garden hose up my ass, I want to remember EVERY SINGLE MINUTE.

Another super-nice nurse comes in and rolls me to the procedure room. (What is it with all these really nice nurses here?) Everyone, by the way, is lying on their left side while on their little gurneys. I guess that's what it's all about--on the left, roll, expose the butt, go! The doctor comes in and probably does a mini mental health examination to determine if I am fit to make a decision to stay awake during the procedure. He, too, tells me I can change my mind at any time. He turns on the television above my head, on the wall, explaining that I will be able to watch as he progresses. I am GIDDY with delight!

Then, the most embarrassing and humiliating part of the entire ordeal happens. I wasn't ready for it. See, the colonoscopy thingy has a camera on it--how else do you think they see anything?Well, the doctor turns the camera on and you can see the room, whatever. That's all fine. It was when he started coming toward my butt....oh.....so....slowly...that I wanted to die. There, in full living color, VERY ENLARGED and on TV, was my hairy butt crack!
I swear to you this is true. You do NOT know how hairy your butt crack may be in between those two little cheeks until you have seen it with your own two eyes, on a television screen.

I winced with embarrassment, but trust me--it was short-lived embarrassment, as once that garden hose entered my anus, I forgot all about the butt crack hair.

The rest was sheer amazement. There was still some poop hanging out in the colon, so he used a little stream of water and this windshield wiper thingy to make his way. (See? I told you I was constipated to the nth degree. I still had poop in there. Have pity on me.) He explained everything as he saw it and as I felt it. I have to admit, it did not hurt half as much as I thought it might. I was so glad to be awake. I'm not sure what he thought, as I kept talking about how cool this was.

Unfortunately, the big turn out of the first part of the colon into the perpendicular part of the colon takes a lot of muscle--that's a big turn. I am not kidding when I tell you that the doctor literally had the nurse come and push on the outside of my belly in an effort to help the garden hose make the turn. Yikes!

That part of the procedure was a tad touchy but very bearable. Okay, that hurt but for god's sake, women shoot bowling balls out of their vaginas during birth every day. This couldn't even be one-one millionth of such bowling-ball-vagina pain. Besides, it was only a fleeting splash of pain. Besides, the doctor had me bend and look at my abdomen, as you could literally see the light of the garden hose through my skin once it had made the big turn. Now, that's cool and so I professed my love of this moment.

I'm sure he was thinking, "FREAK!"

I'm sure he was thinking "REALLY BIG FREAK!" when I asked for photos. For some reason, he complied with my request and took three pictures of my insides for a souvenir. What a man!

Did I mention they basically fill you with air during this whole nonsense? This will come into play in just a few moments.....

It's only been like 15 minutes and he's already on his way "out." I talk incessantly about how much I've enjoyed this, thanking him repeatedly for letting me stay awake. I believe he was rather amused by the whole thing. He saved the best for last....

.....he turned that little puppy so he could see the inside of my anus. Picture someone trying to make a Shepard's hook turn with a garden hose in your butt hole. YEOW! Got a great photo, though. "Hmmmm, a little hemorrhoid," he says. "Get that thing out of there," is what I say. There is no time for embarrassment when someone is curling a garden hose in your butt.
(See the x-ray? That end of the garden hose can curl whatever way the doctor wants it to curl. If asked, never say yes to having an internal photo of your anus taken unless you must absolutely say yes.)

And, thus the procedure is over, they hand me my photos, roll me into the recovery area, still lying on my left side. Funny, tho--I'm fully conscious and everyone else is laying on their gurneys (on the left side, of course), smiling brightly with their eyes closed. Ah, they are in la-la land, still doped by the stuff of amnesiac. It was rather surreal. The nurse tells me I don't have to wait any longer--I can just get dressed and leave. Hey, this took less than an hour total and everyone else will be here for days! I'm psyched and ready for a candy bar.

When you have been filled with gas, the gas must come out. When I stand up to get dressed, the biggest, most explosive fart screams out of my hairy butt crack and I feel the walls reverberate with the force of the fart. I look around to see that I am alone, but no--I hear the nurse say that gas is normal and that it's going to come out of there rapidly. Oh my god! I'm not sure if I should be proud or horrified. I dress quickly and run to find my friend. As I am under no drug influence, I am free to go shopping. It came in handy--as we walked, I tooted along. It's fresh and pretty gas--just air--so it's just toot toot toot without the foul odoriferous giveaway.

And so, you have the story of my colonoscopy. I won't need another one until I'm fifty but rest assured I will stay awake when the time comes.......and, I'll be on the outlook for mystery corn floating in the muck and mire....

If you need a little more anal-related babbling, don't forget to visit one of my favorite stories (regarding Hot Diggity's anal gland explosion):
http://addiwp.blogspot.com/2006/04/anal-gland-explosion-of-hot-dog-kind-i.html