My First Colonoscopy
TMI? If talk about hemorrhoids and colonoscopies is something that bothers you, you may want to skip this one folks. But if it peaks (?!) your curiosity, read on, Wayne!
Like Joe Walsh, Life’s been good to me so far! I’ve managed to reach age 55 without having to endure a colonoscopy. For the last 10 years my primary care doctor has been on my ass about getting the procedure. Um. NO. At the time I believe the recommended age was 50.
Or.
I could use something like Cologuard.
Easy choice. No choice really. Let me shit in an envelope and mail it to you!
Every year – pass!
Until this year. Ooopsie!
My doctor almost couldn’t contain her pleasure while telling me my yearly shit-test came back positive for blood and that I would, in fact, have to (should) get the colonoscopy she had been trying to get me into for the last 10 years. You know what? I do have hemorrhoids. That could explain the blood in my stool sample. Her and my gastroenterologist agreed that could be the most likely cause. But did I want to bet the farm on that? No. So I reluctantly agreed to go through this horrendous procedure that I’d been able to avoid thus far.
We hear all types of horror stories about how bad the VA is, but honestly, for me, I have had nothing but the best of experiences. VA has always been there for me. Whenever I needed something, VA has provided. Have there been scandals? Sure. Did it turn out that my first doctor VA doctor probably took too much pleasure from juggling my balls like she was looking for ripe tomatoes all in the name of healthcare? Probably. At the time I remember thinking man, this lady is thorough! But she was fired.
I knew going in that the preparation was the worst part. I knew I wouldn’t mind the actual procedure – that I would be out and none the wiser. It was the going the week prior without any red meat that was the worst. Especially when a new kamado grill arrived and I had to grill chicken on it as its inaugural cook for fuck’s sake. That, coupled with no whole grains meant chicken tacos without rice on Taco Tuesday.
The next big part was coming off my naproxen prescription Wednesday night. It’s a blood thinner and wouldn’t mix well with any removal of polyps if necessary. Luckily I could continue taking my gabapentin for nerve pain.
Next was the liquid diet that began Sunday morning. I poured water into the jug (about 4.5 liters) of what would start off as a mildly acceptable tasting liquid and end as Satan himself at 0400 Monday morning. I don’t even mind having to shit my brains out. I’ve done that plenty of times. Having to drink all that nasty fluid without projectile vomiting it into the next county is the worst part. So 4AM, Monday morning, the worst part is over. I’m pissing from 2 holes. The best part is to come – meeting the Dream Master, I mean, anesthesiologist.
This is where we meat back up with nothing but great experiences with my VA. This procedure was no different. All top scores from me. Reporting time was 0830. We stepped into the office at 0824. Within 4 minutes, I was already in the ass-opened robe, plugged into an IV, and waiting. Shortly thereafter I was visited by my doctor who informed that two veterans were in front of me and that if all went as planned with them, I should be in the room in a little over an hour.
Everything must have gone as planned because at 1040 they put the mask on me, had me roll onto my left shoulder, and gave me a pillow to hug like TimTim my first teddy bear. A thunderous clack and vibration reminiscent of a roller coaster catching on track and being hauled up the initial ascent, I was being whisked out of the staging/recovery room and down the hall. The temperature dropped noticeably as we entered the room. My bed came to an abrupt stop. Reciting my full name, birthday, and last four, the wonder drugs were administered. I looked at the wall to the clock as I slowly faded out of consciousness. 1045…
Not even a half hour later I was awake. Procedure done. Two small (2mm) polyps removed. Doctor told me I wouldn’t need another colonoscopy for 7 years! Woo-hoo! I’ll be retired then! I was released around 1230. Told not drive or sign any important papers for 24 hours.
Many thanks to Carol for providing me my transportation to and from. We stopped at Whataburger on the way home. This won’t be published until Wednesday, but as I write this on a Taco Tuesday, I can tell you that we’ll be having fajitas tonight instead. I’ve got a skirt steak and chicken breast marinading since this morning. Not in the same bag, you sicko. I made some salsa verde. It will be epic!