There are things we do in life that just aren’t fun. Taxes come to mind. Root canals are pretty high up there. Licking a nettle on a bet. But all pale in comparison to the medical things we’re supposed to start doing when we get up there in age. The kind of ages and medical procedures that you never worried about before. They were too far in the future to give any thought, and you figured someone would just invent an iPhone app to replace it before it became an issue.
The “it” refers to procedures like a … hold on while I figure out how to spell it … c-o-l-o-n-o-s-c-o-p-y.
Wo! That hurt a little just to type it.
That’s what I had last week. It’s when they send a camera up your behind and to have a look-see inside your colon. Just to make sure everything is OK. Think of it like a Martian rover on some great adventure, only not nearly as cool or fun.
But it’s all about preventative medicine. According to the CDC, colon cancer is the third leading cause of cancer deaths in the U.S. And as alarming as that is, early screenings like colonoscopies are the best way to head it off.
As I found out last week, they’re also not nearly as bad as your imagination leads you to believe. (Thinking of it like a deranged, lunatic Martian rover on a joyride is way off-base.) But from the “prepping” – which involves ingesting more laxatives than some entire European countries have on shelf – to the procedure itself, it turns out to be a pretty interesting experience. Here are a few of my publishable highlights:
• Never use a favorite sports drink for your “colon prep.” Because you will NEVER want to taste that flavor again. This is thanks to the fact that it’s mixed with enough foul-tasting laxative to take down a rhino. And you have to consume it all within a set amount of time. Combine this with the really weird things start happening to you immediately after, and you’ll never look at a sports drinks the same way.
• Chicken broth does not taste like chicken. This is especially true after you drink several gallons of your once-favorite sports drink. It’s part of the clear liquid diet you get put on before the procedure, and I don’t recommend eating it straight. Rather, mix it with some of the other approved foods. For instance Jell-O.
• Your stomach will make sounds that you have never heard before. Terrifying sounds. Like a deranged Martian rover. You can’t imagine what is going on inside you to create these sounds, but it is safe to assume you have been possessed by a demon. It sounds like an out-of-balance washing machine. Or a Formula 1 car engine. At one point, I thought it started saying, “Red Rum! Red Rum!” But alcohol is not on the approved clear liquid list, so I had to ignore it.
• Hospital gowns and those colorful grippy socks they give you are not a good look for me. I looked like I was wearing a moo moo. Like my hair should have been up in curlers while I watched my favorite soap operas and did a crossword. Of everything I went through, this might have been the worst part. I can’t understand why with all of the money the medical industry makes, they can’t come up with something slightly more fashionable. Or at least a more flattering color scheme.
• When they put you under for the procedure, they don’t let you sleep nearly long enough. I mean, here I am paying 5-star hotel prices, and checkout is 45 minutes after you checkin. I had never been under anesthesia before, so I didn’t know what to expect. Would I toss and turn like at home? Would I have to get up to pee in the middle of it? Would I hit the snooze button 15 times? But it was incredibly peaceful. The best sleep I’ve ever had. One minute I was being told to relax and the next thing I knew I was waking up to a nurse saying, “You’re all done. Feel free to start getting dressed and you can go.” GO!?! But I haven’t been to the pool yet. Or got a massage in the spa. No, you put me back under and give me my money’s worth!
• The question, “how are you doing?” just doesn’t sound quite as nice when someone asks you right before you get a colonoscopy. Because let’s be honest: I haven’t eaten in more than 24 hours. My mouth taste like sports drink fermented with something you found in a barn. And I’m about to have a Martian rover driven up my wazoo. How am I doing? NOT well. I am FREAKING OUT!!!
• But “how are you doing?” never sounded so wonderful as right before they wheel you out to the car. Because I got a good prognosis. I have my clothes back on. They are hopefully destroying the video camera that drove up my wazoo. And I am about to make a break for the door before they even pull the IV out.
• Maybe most of all, as miserable and terrifying as colonoscopies and other screening tests might seem, it’s way better than the alternative. Such a feeling of relief. Not only that it’s over, but also that I should be good for a number of years and have hopefully headed off a preventable problem. That’s a tremendous feeling.
Plus, the note on the discharge papers that reads: Resume previous diet. I’m done with you chicken broth and sports drink I’ll never look at again.