So, a while back I blogged about not being worried about getting a colonostomy. I thought everything would go well.
Operative word – thought.
Never “think” things will go well.
Because prior to a colonoscopy, you need to do what’s generally known as “prep.” Prep involves adjusting your diet for about a week, and then drinking this MiraLax powder and taking laxative pills, then spending the next 24 hours on the porcelain throne until you’re completely pooped out, figuratively and literally.
So that morning, I went in for the colonoscopy procedure. They sedated me.
I later woke up. “We couldn’t do your colonoscopy, Mr. Miller,” the nurse told me. “You weren’t clean enough in your colon.”
So what did that mean?
I had to schedule a new colonoscopy exam. And it meant another week of MiraLax powder and laxative pills and starving myself like Kate Moss before a photo shoot.
I went back to the hospital. “Are you clean this time?” the nurse asked me.
“I believe so,” I told her. At that time, I was operating on maybe 30 minutes of sleep, having spent most of the night doing my imitation of Rodan’s The Thinker.
They hooked me up to the intravenous and wheeled me into the procedure room.
“You’re not clean enough,” the doctor snarled at me.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “I did the prep and followed the rules.”
Without warning, the doctor crammed the colonoscopy scope into my rear, and told me to look at the monitor. “You’re not clean,” he growled. “You should know better. You should follow the rules of prep. Shame on you.”
Wow. I’m already doing whatever I can to get my body prepared for this, and I’ve got the doctor bitching at me.
And I didn’t get home 20 minutes before I received a call. “Hi, this is the nurse from your procedure. The doctor needs you to schedule a new procedure immediately.”
No fucking way. I was already weak and hungry and embarrassed, and I didn’t want to spend another moment in the hospital. And I told the nurse, in no uncertain terms, how I felt about it.
“Oh,” she said, “I had absolutely no idea that had happened. But you still need to get a colonoscopy. We can schedule you for another doctor, if you want.”
Fine by me. I don’t want this cheddar-brain anywhere near me.
Next thing I know, I’m scheduled for a teleconference with another doctor. I explained to him my concerns. He said that he understands, and that I will be in much better hands this time around. And if I wanted to, I could try to do two days of prep, instead of one, to guarantee that my colon would be clean for the colonoscopy.
That’s right, kids. Two days of that powder, which by the way, tastes like FEET. Two days of those laxative pills. Two days of visiting the men’s room and doing my duties and my doody.
And by Friday morning, I felt like I was ready. I arrived at the surgery center for an 8:00 appointment. Changed clothes, made one final trip to the bathroom.
Okay, let’s do this.
I was wheeled into the surgery center. And for the next 20 minutes, while I heard an oldies radio station in the background, and with a nurse letting me know I was doing fine, and the doctor calmly explaining what was happening, the colonoscopy took place, was completed and was over.
Chuck’s colon was very clean. No polyps reported, no biopsies required. Have a great day, come back in five years.
Whew. Thank God that’s over.
I will say, though, after the procedure, I felt bloated and gassy. That might have been because that colonoscopy scope kept pumping water and gas in my colon, and lit it up like it was a trip through Howe Caverns. And I’m still feeling some of the after-effects of the preparation.
But yeah, I’ve got a clean bill of health.
Only took three tries, two different doctors, and preparation powder that tasted like FEET, to make this happen.