Reader Discretion is Advised….
Ok, I’m gonna try to keep this PG-13, but I make no guarantees.
I recently turned 50, so my induction to my Golden Years includes – besides a daily bombardment of AARP snail mail – the requirement of a colonoscopy.
I was assured by a several friends that the procedure itself is no big deal and that I would be asleep for the whole process. BUZZ. Wrong Answer.
The day before the Colonoscopy procedure, I am only allowed to eat Jello, which of course, when you are starving, is actually quite tasty.
Then in the evening, the Yummy Colon-Blow stuff is consumed according to schedule. I was warned by a friend that it tasted like chalk. That would have been pleasant. It actually tastes more like Paint Thinner, you know, Turpentine. I was instructed to drink 20 gulps of this beverage every 15 minutes.
Then of course, my insides began to churn, and endless trips to the bathroom were endured.
Several hours later, just when I can’t stand it anymore, it was time to ingest the second batch of my Turpentine-formula. What could be more delicious? I was stuffed full of fiber and there was no more room at the Inn for another pitcherful of this power drink. I forced myself to suck it down, trying to remember, waterboarding must be worse, and I shouldn’t be such a baby about it.
I lost count of my trips to the powder room, but I did get to catch up on a few episodes of “Breaking Bad” (now that guy’s got problems…) before I finally went to bed at 2:30 am.
I awoke at 7 am, and was not allowed to have coffee before the procedure. The cruelty continues.
I arrive at the Outpatient Colonoscopy Facility, and after giving my insurance info, I am swept off to a little bed with a shower curtain for privacy, and told to take off my clothes and put on the famous hospital gown, opening in the back. I am then poked and prodded in my arms numerous times as they finally find a vein to insert the needle into me. Since I’m dehydrated from only eating Jello, they hook me up to a saline IV.
My bed is then rolled down to the Procedure Room. The alleged Anesthesiologist told me she “might not be able to put me totally out” because I am taking several medications. I’m guessing she got her Certification Online, or maybe Back-in-the-Day, by Mail Order. (I’ve had two other major surgeries, and they always knocked me out cold.)
Well, to put it bluntly, pun intended, it was a living nightmare. The probe was inserted, and they puffed my guts up with air, but the pain came as they got really far up into my guts and met resistance. They kept hitting against my guts, which instinctively closed up, and kept telling me, “don’t fight it!” Well, maybe if you had knocked me out like a REAL Anesthesiologist, my reflexes might not be on overdrive.
Damn those online certificate programs!
Finally, I was fully “under” when they were almost finished. I woke up several minutes later, and told “your procedure is finished.” They called hubby to come and get me, meanwhile, I was allowed to get dressed. At that point, I was not even worried about the lack of privacy behind the shower curtain. Like childbirth, you don’t really care if Geraldo comes in with the full camera crew, just get it over with.
When my husband arrived, I was told I was “good to go” so I got out of the bed, walked two steps sideways, and almost fell over. I guess it really was good that I wasn’t driving.
Twelve hours later, after I’d had some toast and Cream of Wheat my guts are still full of air.
Maybe I will feel better tomorrow.
Meanwhile, can anyone recommend a good Anesthesiology School?