Preface: The time of this blog has come and gone. I've decided to go out in style, saying adios by featuring 16 blogs, representing 16 years of blogging. I picked this particular blog because it would be just plain wrong if I didn't talk about poop. From 2011: Here is #12 in the final countdown.
You didn’t think you were going to get through the countdown without at least one poop post, did you? Trust me when I say there is nothing more delightful in the Addiverse than a colonoscopy. From Start to finish, the Addiverse shares all.
Before.
Prepping to a
garden hose shoved up your patootie is different than it was ten years ago. Back then, you drank--literally--a
gallon of this god-awful concoction and then hoped for the best. Since I
have a very slow-moving system, it took me FIVE HOURS after consuming a gallon
of tainted liquid to have any "motion." A gallon of liquid AND all that poop still in
there. Several days’ worth of poop. Miserable, I
went to bed because I got tired of waiting for something to happen and tired of
being upright while sloshing.
This time around, I'm directed
to take three laxative pills, drink two bottles of this
terrible-but-tolerable tasting magnesium stuff and consume 1/2 gallon of Gatorade in five hours' time. I am supposed to wait until 4 PM for the pills and 5 PM for the bottle of
"stuff," but I don't want to end up with another "waiting for
five hours at night" episode due to my slow system; thus, I move up the
time frame. This seems genius. It also seems to be to be a great
equalizer--it's kind of like how they stagger the runners in track meets to
make it equitable. I look like I'm starting ahead of the pack but really, I am
with the pack.
My 5 PM is someone else's 7 PM.
Gatorade now comes in a "clear" form--it has flavor but not color. This helps a lot although I am quickly developing an aversion to Gatorade, no matter what the color or
flavor. I soothe my soul with gratitude it's only 1/2 gallon, not a full gallon. That makes things much less uncomfortable.
Despite being “early” in the game, I've already seen some amazing things from long ago. I just saw remnants of last Tuesday's bagel (I kid you not) and I am awaiting arrival of corn. If I see corn, I'm taking a photo of it because I can't even remember the last time I ate any corn.
I poop until I can poop no more. I weigh myself upon what had to be the final poop. Four pounds lighter. I pooped four pounds of stuff. Score!
During: Trick or Treat!
I am here to give you a full report
on the non-sedated colonoscopy. But, before I tell you about the actual event,
I want to tell you about something very weird that was going on in the medical building. I assure you that what I
am about to tell you is 100% true… I reiterate that I was not on any drugs…
and, I have a witness to ensure my relative sanity.
Children were trick or treating at the nurse’s station. Yes, trick or treating, complete with costumes. Trick or treating at the desk where people on gurneys roll by as they get or finish colonoscopies.
I’m looking at a pirate and a cupcake.
Maybe four or five or six years old. Pirate and cupcake costumes.
My colonoscopy happens to be on Halloween. There I am, in my full glory on the gurney, covered only by a ratty hospital gown and a pile of sheets, curtains wide open for all the world to see... and children are trick or treating just a few feet away. Never mind the guy in the recovery cubicle is within earshot talking about wanting a bottle of whiskey. Children are trick or treating at the nurses station.
That's a cupcake and a pirate.
If I didn't have a witness or if I had
been on the happy drugs, I would have thought I was hallucinating. Who the hell trick or treats in a gastroenterologist
office??? I call MJagger and ask her to come into the treatment area.
She wanders back to where I am.
I point at the cupcake and the pirate. She agrees. There are trick or treaters at the nurse's station.
It is a bit unnerving to have those little costumed kiddies staring at me. And I mean staring. This four- or five-year- or six-year old little chubby pirate girl stares at me for what seems like 30 seconds. Maybe she was waiting for me to offer her some candy.
Damn nurse never offered ME or MJagger any candy. Maybe because we weren't
wearing a costume. MJagger wanders back to the waiting room, no candy in hand.
As the trick or treaters move along, so do I. Time to get the party started. Getting the IV in my hand--actually, not getting the IV in my hand--was rather awful. I have wimpy veins, so I'm used to people having trouble with them but that doesn’t mean I like it.
Me: “Um, I’m not getting sedated.”
Nurse (looks up, surprised): “Excuse me?”
Me: “I don’t need to be sedated. I’m fine without it.”
Nurse (furled brows): “You’re not getting sedated?”
Me: “No. I honestly don’t need that I.V.”
Nurse (after a pause of which I’m sure is related to her questioning my sanity): “I still have to put this in.” She continues to dig around, looking for a suitable vein.
Usually, I can talk medical personnel out of something that I am pretty sure is not going to work, but this nurse was having nothing to do with my gentle hints. I hate suggesting things to medical professionals. After all, they are the professionals. But, when it comes to my veins….
Me (with hesitation): "Uh, maybe you should try another vein."
Nurse (continues to dig around).
Me (in my head--ow ow ow ow ow): “Honestly, another vein might be better. Are you sure I have to have this I.V. ready to go?”
Nurse (ignores me, keeps trying). She finally managed to blow out the vein.
How do I know this? Because she says, "Oh! I blew out your vein."
I left that place looking like a bad night on the Twilight movie set. Off to
the procedure I roll, blown vein and all.
At this point, I'd like to make the disclaimer that under no circumstance should you try the non-sedated colonoscopy unless you are as weird as I am, you like looking at your innards on a large TV screen and you can deal with the discomfort associated with a garden hose winding its way through your internal maze. I do not condone this practice. They offer amazing drugs, so why not say yes?
The doctor walks in, confirms that I don’t want sedation and asks me to roll onto my left side. I am ready. He’s ready. The nurse is ready. As the doctor explains the procedure and moves to start the journey, “Highway to Hell” comes on the radio. I kid you not. It is the perfect song at the perfect time.
You would think getting a garden hose shoved up your patootie would be horrible, but it's not half as bad as you would think....
....
Relatively speaking, of course. A garden hose up the ass isn’t
so bad, but you can’t really think about it. After all, THAT is an OUT hole,
not an IN hole. Getting a vein blown out is way worse than the start of the procedure.
Honestly, the worst part of that portion of the procedure is you can see your
butthole on the TV. That’s because the camera in the garden hose is already on
and you can see EVERYTHING from start to finish. I don’t want to see my butthole
but there it is, in full living color.
I am unable to fully articulate what it’s like to have a colonoscopy. The room is dark, the noises are loud and slurpy, the TV is glowing. It's tolerable. It's interesting. It's uncomfortable. It's unusual. It's slow and methodical. The radio is playing and I'm humming along.
The
"going round the mountain" part? Okay, this is quite "uncomfortable." Did you know there are some
tricky turns in your bowels? I remember this from my previous
colonoscopy--the garden hose isn't good about getting around the bends. The hose is flexible but not that flexible. To get around the mountain, the colon needs
some outside help. I'd be lying if I said this didn't smart.. I'd say
"pain," but it's not like every day pain or like hitting your
thumb with a hammer. It's more like, "what the hell was that?" pain.
I am super-glad when the doctor asks the nurse to push on my abdomen when maneuvering the garden hose. That nurse might have blown out my vein but
she wins big points from me when she uses her hands to shove my bowels back
toward my tailbone. I mean she put her whole weight behind her and became my
personal girdle. I can't believe how that one little thing made a huge
difference-- her hands mashed on my belly sent that garden hose flying right to
wear it belonged.
The entire ordeal was made more "interesting" because I still had so much poop-goop, sesame seeds and oatmeal stuff in me. The doctor had to "suck and spit" to get to where he was going--kind of like driving in a blinding rainstorm at night with only one headlight. I comment on this, indicating I am embarrassed by "all" that is still "in there." He assures me this is normal and just fine. I'm skeptical but thank him for his kindness.
Can you imagine what would be in there if I hadn't started my prep earlier than they suggested? It would have been spelunking through cement.
At least there was no corn.
Before
I know it, we are done. No polyps, no tumors, no weird
growths, no problems, no worries. Just a pretty-in-pink, healthy
colon and an ugly butthole Thank you, baby Jesus! Out comes the garden hose.
After.
I felt like I was being held hostage. As I was already passing gas (there is no way you can stop that from happening) and still wasn't getting anywhere, I decided it was time to kick it up a notch. No more silent farting for me--I let them know I meant business.
After After.
Now that the colonoscopy is behind me (pun intended), I make up for all that lost time: I eat lunch at Culvers, get some fancy coffee at Starbucks, eat home-made cupcakes from MJagger, stuff chocolate chips in as fast as I could pour them, eat some homemade some guacamole and move on to other culinary delights. I lost four pounds preparing and I plan to gain four pounds recovering.
I am one healthy grrrrrl with one healthy appetite. I am going to focus on all the things that are "right" with me. As writings from the "Secret" suggests, "Fear nothing - just think about what you want. It feels so much better!"
I am thinking about what I want....and, it involves a lot of chocolate. Suddenly, I feel so much better.
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