I’m telling you right now, be forewarned that this post will not be like my regular posts. It will be a horse of a different color and you have never heard words like these come out of my mouth. Some content won’t be ladylike, it may have you laughing out loud, and yet at others it might be downright shitty. Plus it’s a long one. All pun is fully intended and I might as well go all out. And there we go, it already has started. Welcome to my first colonoscopy. Something pretty private right, but I’m going to share it anyways. It was a good thing that I decided to take the day prior off. I had received various warnings of what to expect and I could have not done it while working. One person told me that the prep was the worst, that I would gag and have trouble getting all the liquids down. A few others who knew, had a different theory altogether. Myself, I thought the IV would be the worst since nobody ever finds my veins. I knew I can handle the prep and I would be out for the actual procedure, so the needle was most likely my biggest worry. But let’s just start with the morning prior to the procedure.
By 10 AM, I ate what felt like my last supper. From there on out, I would be on a liquid diet that included Popsicles, (which I didn’t have), gelatin, (not a fan, but came to love it after starvation) chicken or beef broth, water, tea, soda (a thing I usually don’t drink) and that was pretty much it. I was hungry all day, even lightheaded and dizzy at times. By 5 PM I mixed 64 ounces of water with two packages of Gatorade. At 6 PM the entire bottle of powder solution (prep) was added to the yellow Gatorade mix. Here we go, time to drink up, and the first 32 ounces, four glasses, 8 ounces each, every 15 minutes, was waiting for me. Surprisingly the prep was of pleasant flavor and not at all how the one person had described it. Perhaps I had received the updated, new and improved version. Instant relief hit me, well not literally and no pun there, but it was in a different sense, and phew….I felt lucky leaving the first hurdle behind me.
Nothing happened for a while and it wasn’t until two hours later that I finally ran to the bathroom. Yes I said “ran”. Little did I know that this was the first of many trips to follow and a colonoscopy prep maybe just the thing you need to find out just how full of shit you really are. All pun intended. The prep worked it’s way through my system and wanted no part of me. I never had anything leave my body with such high speed velocity as on this day. Well ok, let’s just leave the gross part right there and you don’t need a visual. But, oops, pardon me, have I mentioned that I was glad to be home alone? Already vulnerable, at least I was left to make fun of myself.
I was beginning to worry about bedtime and if I should make an adult size diaper out of some sheets or some material that I could wrap around me. There was almost no prior warning and no time to waste when the urge came to visit the toilet God. Nobody had forewarned me about that, but in the end everything was OK and I slept a few short hours. 6 AM came and the rest of the 32 ounces of prep was waiting for me regardless of my system already being clear. Yellow Gatorade was exiting my body the same way it was entering. It looked unchanged having made the journey of passing through my body and was just what we wanted. Over the next hour I would drink four more 8 ounce glasses until all the prep was gone. I waited as long as I could, letting the prep do its work, before heading to the shower. It was then that it became apparent as to why the prep kit included “Tushy wipes” and I had a feeling that they would come in handy after the shower, should I have to go again. I dressed and off to the clinic it was with my escort and my driver in tow. A requirement as I would be incapacitated to drive myself. The excitement was building, what two fantastic days off, I thought.
Fast-forward, a few legalities in the office signing that the $2000 procedure would be my responsibility if my insurance doesn’t pay, (really) and it’s finally my turn. Yeah. The nurse calls my name, escorts me to the back and hands me a clear cup while soliciting Urin in order to perform a pregnancy test. What? Next I strip down to nothing while being instructed to leave the gown wide open in the back, don’t tie it we need unobstructed access. On my Gurney, the entire medical team which consists of three people makes an appearance to review my medical history and start the dreaded IV. Events and occurrences are read off to me while another feels my arm in the hopes of detecting a vein. No, wait a minute, I never had my gallbladder removed, leaving everybody stumped and shrugging their shoulders. Has somebody stolen my identity and my medical history? Who could be jealous of that! Apparently it’s no big deal and I have no idea if it was ever corrected or if I still exist without a gallbladder in some medical file in the universe. One quick prick and the IV is in, I’m relieved and if this was the worst, I would be in the clear. I’m prepped and I’m ready to go, just waiting. The nurse peaks in and I inquire if I should plan a baby shower. She turns to me, eyes wide open, asking how I knew she was planing to become pregnant. She thinks I’m one to predict the future and while my intuitions are strong, I was talking about my own pregnancy test, I just did.
I hear panting through the thin curtain divider. Another nurse stops at the bed next to me while asking the man to scoot up in his bed and comments about his blood pressure being 200/120. The Dr stops and the man is beyond nervous and frightened about the procedure. Doc, tries to put him at ease before peaking over to my side, “Awe she is ready to go” he says and it is decided that I would go first to give the man time to calm down and stabilize his condition.
Now, next to my gurney, he asks if I have a living will or directive. There is always a chance that the intestines lining could get torn, but he ensures me that he will take his time. Thanks Doc, 👍🏼 I guess, way to comfort me and even though I’m not like the poor man next to me, naked and afraid, I still ain’t thrilled to be here either. No wonder the guy to my right is freaking out.
Here we go, and before I can dwell on it too much longer, the oxygen is in my nose and wheeled into the procedure room I go. I have to state my birthday and someone notices that it was only a few days ago. I said yeah thought I’d try something different this year, belated birthday present to myself. “Well aren’t you the party animal, we’ll just invite you every year from now on” someone from the three people team says. Pleasure but no thanks I say and this year is special. Someone else responds by saying “Well you went all out, this year”. Literally and I’m all out of it alright. What a shitty business that was I say. Everyone is rolling and it’s a party in the procedure room with all pun fully intended about the shitty affair. I wonder how many times this happens that there is loud laughter coming from the operating room, as my mind flashes back to the man next to me in the waiting room.
Next thing I know it’s lights out I wake up in the recovery room. I remember the nurse reminding me to take deep breaths as I forget to breathe and the machine monitoring my vitals is making alarming sounds. Every other minute she peaks around the corner, taunting me to breathe deeply while reminding me that I wouldn’t go home until my oxygen stabilizes. I don’t really care, I just wanna sleep. Apparently the doctor who performed the procedure and which official title I don’t know, was there as well to talk to me about the results. I have given him the lovely nickname of “Booty pirate” by now as I often name people and animals I encounter. I guess he has found it’s way into my inner circle, (haha, more pun) thorough my butt and I’m grateful that nothing has torn and that I’m alive. I can’t remember for the life of me that I talked to him and God knows what I said. But hopefully “Thank you very much” dear Booty Pirate comes to mind.
Everything is well and the results are good. A small cyst that appears to be normal and no signs and symptoms of my booty being violated in any way. Life is good and the morale of this story is that no matter how shitty life can get, there is always fun to be had and a party to be lived.
Sorry, no pictures on this one 😉