This Year, A Colonoscopy for Christmas

Don't you wish you had my gift for timing?

This year for Christmas, I got a gift certificate for yarn, an eight-inch cast-iron frying pan, and a colonoscopy.

Yep! On December 19th, a mere six days before Christmas, a man I never met before saw parts of me that no loved one ever will.

The whole thing started when I decided to get my annual check-up and the doctor asked when my last colonoscopy happened.

Never.

That response earned me The Look. At 54, I should have had one about four years ago.

Whoops!

This new medical system swooped around me and set the appointment on the first available day. “December 19th,” I thought. “That will work fine.”

Five days before the procedure, preparations began with a change to a low-roughage diet.

Now, it’s not like I have the best diet in the world, but I do manage to eat my share of fruits and veggies. Low-roughage meant limiting high fiber foods like whole grains, nuts, seeds, and raw fruits and veggies. And, if I did succumb to the siren call of fruits and vegetables, to eat them without their peels.

When was the last time you had to say, “Sorry! I can’t eat many vegetables. Can I have some rice or pasta instead?”

A bowl of granola and dinner packed with a rainbow of fresh vegetables snuck in on the first day. But frankly, I couldn’t figure out what to eat! Could I have a clementine? How about a piece of toast? Wait! That’s whole grain bread. Maybe I should eat a cookie instead?

Along with the dietary change, my fluid intake increased by 32 ounces, and the bathroom became my favorite hangout.

Two days before the event, my instructions changed from limiting the veggie rainbow to avoiding it completely. The color of my food paled to white with touches of beige. But that only lasted for a day as all solid food ended twenty-four hours before the procedure.

A nurse called to check on me just before the liquid diet began. “I know that when you drink the prep, you feel like you’re drinking a lot of liquid, but that’s just running through you. Drink as many other liquids as you can so you stay hydrated.”

I laughed and assured her that I would. I mean, how hard can it be to drink that much liquid? Stories from friends and comedians shared that they’d drunk all of the prep quicker than anyone recommended. I’d be fine!

My “prep” was a mixture of a half-gallon of Gatorade (no red or purple, please!) and a bottle of Miralax. Instructions called for mixing it together in the morning and chilling in the refrigerator until beginning to drink at 5pm. After being on schedule for the first two glasses, I slowed down. What was supposed to take three hours took me almost four, and the last few sips only succeeded because my body finally released.

Whoosh! The effluence left my body like someone was flinging buckets of liquid that just happened to slosh out of my bumhole. It was as if my body was rinsing itself from the inside out and I only witnessed it. Sleep took over at 9:30, though I was up a few times in the night. The liquid changed from deep brown to a light brown and the last poop was more yellow than anything else. The work of the Gatorade dye? I’m thinking that they make you stay away from the red so you don’t think you’re bleeding to death.

The final two cups of Gatorade/Miralax awaited me for breakfast. By two hours before my procedure, my duties were complete.

Before leaving, I fed Stephanie her breakfast and took my shower. Gui drove me to the clinic and waited until a nurse wearing a tiara called my name.

Thank goodness! A little whimsy always helps me feel better.

She explained that it was Silly Hat Day (No everyday tiaras? What kind of Mickey Mouse outfit is this?) as she took me into the depths of the building. On the way, she pointed to the nurse sitting at the nurses’ station. Another tiara sat by the hand of this short-haired husky fellow. “He looks great in his, but he won’t wear it.”

“Aw!” I said. “I can tell it will be a good look.”

“But I brought this.” He pulled out a tall, tinsel covered christmas tree hat and popped it on.

I gasped, “It’s wonderful!”

He replaced the tinsel tree with the tiara. “It looks regal.” I was earnest in my praise, but he pulled it off quickly.

“It’s poky,” he replied, and rubbed his head.

“Time to get ready!” My nurse cut the conversation short and led me into a nearby room. She had me undress, put on the regular hospital gown (open in the back) and booties over my socks. I could leave my socks on.

Cue music.

After I got positioned on the bed, she took my vitals and put in an IV line. Another nurse rolled me into the procedure room. There, a doctor explained what was going to happen. They administered the sedative and I dropped off into a long winter’s nap.

Between being sedated and waking up in my own bed, I remember feeling something hitching its way through my body, jolting and pushing and jabbing in a way that made me glad for the medication.

I awoke after 3pm and stumbled into the living room to ask Stephanie if I’d said anything embarrassing while I was on the drugs. “Not more than usual,” she replied.

Gui and Monika avoided the question.

Steph handed me the blue folder containing my results. All clear! Ten years until I have to do it again.

While it wasn’t my favorite Christmas present, I’m glad I did it.

Always good to know what’s up down there!