I’m home, typing in bed. My colonoscopy is over. Dr. Chang found one very small polyp, which he assumes is benign.
I am also pretty stoned right now. If this entry isn’t totally lucid, I reserve the right to come back and revise my remarks (as they say on the floor of the senate).
A number of people said the worst part would be the prep, and they were right. I ate no solid food yesterday, though I did finish a half gallon tub of ice cream.
At home, around midnight, I began to cleanse. I poured out a glass of soda from a two liter bottle of Sprite and replaced it with the contents of two small bottles of Fleet Phospho Soda.
It’s been a while since I’d had real sugared soda, so I’m not sure how the Phospho Soda changed the taste. I think I tasted the salt in it, which got stronger as I got closer to the bottom of the bottle. The Phospho Soda must be more dense than Sprite.
I knew I needed to get started fast or I’d never finish.
The first half of the soda bottle was downed in about 10 minutes. I took another hour to do the rest. That’s also about the time the effects began.
I’m not going to go into detail, but I can guarantee there’s nothing solid left in my digestive system – nothing! And, I probably lost five or more pounds.
Wow – diet secret!
By this morning I was getting apprehensive. It wasn’t one thing that worried me, it was everything. Though, if I had to choose a prime suspect for my angst, it was the IV.
Somehow, I expected it would go in my forearm and it would burn. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Actually, it went into the middle of my hand, between my wrist and fingers and didn’t hurt at all.
The doctor’s waiting room looked like… well it seemed like a doctor’s waiting room. It was only after a nurse came to fetch me, and I walked through a door to the inner sanctum, that I was transported into a hospital. That part amazed me.
The building I was in was designed to be an IBM sales office. It’s three stories tall with lots of parking. Obviously, it’s been heavily modified.
In a small prep room, the nurse began going through a questionnaire. It was the typical medical queries about medication and past procedures. By this time I was wearing an automated blood pressure cuff on my left arm and an oxygen sensor on my right middle finger. EKG probes were stuck to my chest and side.
A heart monitor blasted a rhythmic line of beeps. That, more than anything, took away any pretense of this being a ‘nothing’ process. Say what you will, this is a real surgical procedure.
John, the anesthesiology nurse came in. More questions. More forms. He was reassuring, but also had to tell me everything that might go wrong.
No one wants to hear a sentence which contains the words, “in rare cases.”
By this time I was a real nut case. I could feel myself quivering with fear. I said, “If my blood pressure isn’t high now, when will it ever be!”
I told John I didn’t want to be totally under. I wanted to be sedated, but awake. However, I would leave my actual state of consciousness to his judgment. If it seemed I was in discomfort, he could do what he felt was right.
He saw my nervousness (a blind person could have seen my nervousness) and recommended something to take the edge off before the ‘main event.’ Within a minute my anxiety was diminishing.
I was OK to walk to the operating room, though I wanted someone to hold onto.
They helped me onto the table, I got on my side and that’s all I remember.
Later John would tell me I wasn’t comfortable as Dr. Chang began his work, so out I went. I don’t remember getting to that point, but that’s exactly what I wanted him to do under those circumstances.
So, what can impart to you? After all, a colonoscopy is a life safer and recommended once you get to a certain age.
It is scary to consider a colonoscopy in the abstract. Someone is going to run a tube… many feet of that tube… into your body while taking pictures and possibly snipping polyps.
On the other hand, my apprehension was not in proportion to what actually happened. I felt no pain. I feel no pain now. There is nothing that would lead me to believe I’ve had it done.
The prep part, as everyone says, is worse than the procedure. And even it is more of a bother than anything else.
The people I dealt with today were super. They were confident and reassuring and promised not to tell anyone what I looked like with my clothes off. I hope Dr. Chang knows how important they were to me even before they were doing their real work.
It’s impossible you’re a bigger baby or more of a wuss than I am. That being said, I’m glad I had it done. I’m also glad I don’t have to do this again for another five years.
Blogger’s note: Do I have photos of my colon? Of course. I’m in no shape to scan them now, but they’ll be added to this post later.
One thought on “The Wuss Survives His Colonoscopy”
Glad to see your post. We were wondering how you were feeling.
Enjoy the remaining effects of the drugs!