The Colonscopy

How much troube could one little test be, after all, many of my patients have had this procedure. I would walk into their room with a jug bigger than a propane tank and tell them to drink one glass every 10 minutes and if they didn't they would be up all night sitting on the toilet. I reminded them that if they weren't cleaned out, they would have to drink it over again, along with enemas, offering my best nurse indifference.
I worked on a GI floor and I give the same speech quite often. I knew that old people would poo up the curtains and that young people would mess the bed. Often times, they would vomit and couldn't even finish the prep, which of couse meant a call to the doctor and a zillion enemas. Makes you kind of wonder how they function at home with the prep?
All nurses and doctors should have this procedure done, not just for the sake of diagnostics, but to see how much fun the prep is and to see if they can survive the prep to actually have the test done. So as bad luck would have it, it was my turn for a colonscopy.
It took me a month to choose the right doctor, after all, I worked with these men every day and some things should not be shown, if you know what I mean. Originally, I thought I might wear sunglasses, but later changed my mind.
Of course everyone has a story about their colonoscopy and I feared that I would be screaming on the table. I wasn't the least bit concerned about the prep and didn't even read the instructions until the day before the test. How difficult would it be to take 32 tablets and stay on clear liquids?
So the day of the test, I started my clear liquids and went shopping with my mother. By noon, in Walmart, I was fantasizing about a Big Mac and fries and got a good case of the body shakes. I realized that I had to go home and drink some liquids.
Unfortunately, all our liquids were diet, caffeine free, or Gatorade, which I hate. Gatorade is like drinking Pedialyte that babies get for diarrhea. How awful! Then I decided to read the instruction paper and realized that I had no jello or popsicles. I hadn't seen the need for them. But boy was I hungry and on any other day, I would have skipped two meals and never missed them. You know how powerful the mind is, my body knew that it couldn't have it and it wanted it. It was torture.
Then came 5pm and for the next 15 minute intervals, I had to swallow 4 gigantic pills with water. So I decided to kill some time downstairs wrapping gifts, the ones I bought in January this year. (It was November now). I didn't even know whose pile was whose since it had been so long since I bought them and all 3 men wear the same size.
Anyway, by 6pm, my stomach was swelling to beach ball size and I had to lower my pants to my pubis, but no poo. I had been smart and took 2 Senekot the night before just to get a head start, so I knew this would be a breeze.
Then it started, waves of urgent cramps with unexpected timing while I was a mile from the bathroom. I was afraid to run upstairs and the gas odor was making me nauseated. Eventually I knew better than to let the gas go, because it was accompanied by piles of sludge and I thought maybe a diaper would be nice.
Finally the trips upstairs were so many, I finally sat on the toilet and waited for the next wave. Then the real agony, my butt hole started to burn like someone shot a hot iron up it and the hemorrhoids were just about flying out of the gate. I had to keep Vaseline handy, just to put them back in.
Reluctantly, I gave up on the wrapping and went upstairs to get rid of more havoc from those pills. By 9:45 pm I was settling down, but then I had to start phase 2 which consisted of 12 more pills. Whoever heard of prepping a bowel at bedtime? But I took them and got ready for bed, thinking what harm could they do, there couldn't be much left.
How wrong was that! By 11:00 pm, I didn't know if I was peeing or pooing, it was just running out. I was afraid to go to bed and I could hear my bowel gurgling like a toilet flushing. It was going to be a long night and I knew it.
By midnight, I was too tired to care, so I took an old towel to pad my bed and put a wash cloth in my drawers and went to sleep. At 2 am, I woke from a dream where I was taking Mom Evans to use the bathroom. It was not a good sign. Then I felt the cramps and sneaked out of the bedroom to sit on the toilet while one of my orifices got rid of something. I called it water gas. I went back to bed and the same thing happened again. The Vaseline had little effect on my sore butt hole.
It was at this time that I refused to let anything escape from that hole. The pain was just too sharp and there was blood on the tissue. Enough was enough.
So I survived the prep.
The actual procedure was a breeze. When I walked into the procedure room, the smiling, relaxed nurse asked me if I wanted to go to the bathroom one more time. I declined her kind offer by saying, "Nothing is coming out of that hole while I am conscious!" She found that humorous. There was an anesthesiologist there, who gave me sedation, to help me relax. I was worried that this was all I would get. Then he returned and put a mask over my face and I sailed away.
I remembered thinking how great it would be to take a nice long nap, then the voices in the room started to fade away. After awhile, the voices returned. I was getting nervous and asked the nice nurse how much longer I had to wait. He smiled and said, "It's all over!" Now how in the name of Heaven did I miss the whole procedure? As I lay there waiting for the doctor, I expelled loads of lovely empty gas. I wondered if they had lied to me.
The doctor came in and gave me a good report.
So I am not dying from cancer as I was worried about, it was all stress. He asked me about the stress and the paper I had to fill out was enough to make them put me in Sheppard Pratt, if I had put down the truth.
One shouldn't have to share everything, you know?