Blog This Mom! is interrupting her regularly scheduled posting to bring you this important message: TMI WARNING!
Since we are all bffs here, can I just tell you about the colonoscopy that I had today? It was followed by an endoscopy. I think. The endoscopy might have been before the colonoscopy. I’m not sure in what order the procedures were performed because first I got injectable Valium. It was a full colonoscopy and an endoscopy, and the doctor said that earned me an IV drip with a Valium chaser. You know how I once said that I could never be a rock star given my distaste for drugs? I was wrong. I would totally be a rock star if it gave me access to injectable Valium. If it weren’t for that little matter of not being able to sing or play an instrument, I’d totally be on tour right now, engaged in unprotected sex with a hot groupie or two, trashing my hotel room, and having my manager inject me with Valium. But I digress. This post is about colonoscopies, and why we need them.
Yesterday at about this time, I was considering blowing off the colonoscopy and simply opting for possible death by colon cancer. I will tell you why. To prepare for a colonoscopy, one must have no solid food for at least 24 hours, clear liquids only. Then one must drink twelve ounces of horrid stuff (Magnesium Citrate) followed by four liters of horrible stuff (TriLyte), and one must do this drinking of horrid liquid stuff and horrible liquid stuff within a five-hour time period. The horrid and horrible liquid stuff gives you a basketball-sized belly. The basketball-sized belly causes you to have to go all Nacho Libre and put on the stretchy pants. “For fun.” While wearing stretchy pants, you must drink 12 ounces of horrid stuff + 4 liters of horrible stuff without puking. It isn’t the ghastly taste of the horrid and horrible stuff that makes it so horrid and horrible so much as the sheer volume and viscosity of it. Suffice it to say it is hard to get it down and keep it down. Then you
crap out 17 liters of poopy water spend hours and hours in the restroom reading Newsweek, O, People, Rolling Stone, Vanity Fair, and, finally, because you’d read everything else in there, American Girl Magazine in order to be assured of a cleansed colon for your procedure.
I was okay after drinking 12 ounces of horrid stuff, but ready to call it quits after the second glass (not the second liter, the second glass) of the 4 liters of horrible stuff. It was at that point that I noticed the part on the label that said “TriLyte™ with flavor packs is administered orally or via nasogastric tube as a gastrointestinal lavage.” WTFrick? You mean I could have simply shoved this stuff down my nose with a tube? Why didn’t they give me a tube? What if I hooked a bunch of straws together? Hmmmm. I thought this over (while trying not to yack up the horrible stuff). But what if a straw came off in my gastrointestinal tract? So I drank another glass and that caused me to wonder how bad would it be to die of colon cancer after all. But then I thought about Sharon Osbourne, and how I have a secret crush on her. In fact, let’s just be clear right here and now about this. Sharon is my Secret Girlfriend #2. I could not let her down. I went through with the procedure, first following the rules for the unpleasant preparation for it. And lived to post about it.
Now we are all supposed to have a routine colonoscopy when we turn 50. NO! I’m not 50. Ahem. Yet. But I am anemic. And when they tested certain of my bodily fluids and took samples of some of my . . . uh . . . samples, the doctor determined that I was need of an endoscopy to check for ulcers and a colonoscopy to check for other stuff that might be bleeding. Up in there. So today I had the tests. The good news? My colon is just fine, thankyouverymuch. It seems, however, that I do have a hurty in my tummy, perhaps an ulcer they said, but it looks like it is getting healy in response to the Rx tummy medicine they started giving me last week. More tests in the next few weeks will hopefully show that my tummy is still getting healy and that the Rx iron supplements I’m taking are raising my hemoglobin and hematocrit counts sufficiently such that the doctors stop poking me with stuff. At least that’s what I think the doctor said, “tummy” and “hurty” and “healy.” I was still
high on Valium in the recovery room when he told me after all.
Why am I telling you all of this? Because my Secret Girlfriend #2* would want it that way. Read what she has to say about colon cancer here. And, if you’re in the mood for a laugh and haven’t read it before, read what Dave Barry has to say about colonoscopies here. Now you’ll have to excuse me, I have to go, if you know what I mean.
*FYI: You can find my Secret Girlfriend #1 over here. This guest post right here at Derfwad Manor made her my first Secret Girlfriend.