"First of All,
You Could Die!"
by
Dick Prosapio © 2005
I
sat on the edge of the exam table with one of those open-backed
gowns loosely tied at the back of my neck. The first words out of
the doc-in-training's mouth were not exactly what I wanted to hear.
I would have preferred some kind of preamble which would start with,
"Well now, this is a simple procedure and no problem at all.." etc.
But this Germanic looking guy was a minimalist,
not given to gentle bedside manners.
I was surrounded by all kinds of beeping and
hissing instrumentation crammed into a 10 by 10 room on the fourth
floor of the Albuquerque VA hospital. I was there to finally face my
personal demon, a
colonoscopy.
I had been driving myself crazy about this thing
ever since my first contact with my VA "provider" about four years
ago. "You're over 50 so you definitely should get a colonoscopy done
as soon as possible."
"Right." I thought to myself, feeling rattled and
imposed upon. I had just happened to have heard an audio clip on NPR
of a guy going through a colonoscopy the week before and it was made
up primarily of moaning. This was a bad omen as far as I could see.
Then there was the report my mother gave me after I told her of the
recommendation, "I had one of those and I'd rather have cancer."
Oh yeah, I'd sure schedule one of those things
doc. Right away.
Actually, I did allow the scheduling to take
place, but when the "kit" arrived along with the instructions, no
food for twenty four hours, drinking a gallon of a laxative mixture
the night before, the tube up the rectum. "I don't think so doc."
So I cancelled the thing and threw away the "kit".
Out of sight out of mind.
But not really.
The seed of fear had been planted, "Some traces of
blood in your stool." said the lab. "Variations in bowel habits can
be indications of problems." cautioned the literature. "You
really ought to get this done." advised two guys who had been
through the process.
Anxiety reinforced itself every day depending on
how well my plumbing was functioning. An on-going reminder that all
might not be well.
Finally, after reading a very good book on the
subject I decided to tough it out. I wish I could give you the title
but all I can say about it was that the doc who wrote it was funny
and thoroughly informative and his presentation alleviated a good
deal of my worst fears, especially when he spelled out the
alternative.......death by undetected colon cancer.
"OK damn it! I'll go through the moaning
thing." I finally said out loud to Elizabeth.
"Really the worst part of it is the 'cleaning out'
part." said one of my advisors.
"Yeah right." I thought. "Cleaning out and then a
hose up my butt to add to the fun." Resisting, but
resigned.
So the "kit" came in the mail a week after my sign
up. It consisted of a small green bottle of "Phosphate soda", a
gallon jug with some kind of powder in the bottom, and a small box
of "Infants Gas Relief Drops".
None of this looked like a stroll in the park.
Especially the part in the prep phase that directed that the entire
contents of the gallon jug had to be downed, eight ounces at a wack
every six to ten minutes. And this mixture of the powder and water
in the gallon jug, called "golightly" by some wry nut case in the
system, tasted like a melted plastic "juice", and as each successive
eight ounce glass was gulped down the taste became more and more
pronounced. Really nasty stuff.
I don't know how many people doing this regime
finish the entire gallon, but when I got 90% through it, and was
dumping clear liquid out of the other end, I abandoned the idea and
poured the rest down the drain. Thus assuring a clean septic system
as well.
The next morning, after a night of ups-and-downs,
there I was in the treatment room, being advised of the risks so
that I could sign the Consent Form thus relieving the hospital, and
all attending, of any responsibility for the disposition of my body
if anything should go awry.
The second thing he said was, "We might tear the
lining (of the colon) and so you would have to go into surgery right
away. This would be very serious." (Emphasis his.)
I could have used a few "odds against this are
very high" words about then but he wasn't the optimistic type. The
thing offsetting Dr Doom was the attitude of the cheerful nurse who
had obviously done hundreds of these procedures and, since I didn't
see her unzipping a body bag in preparation, (it may have been
stowed in a nearby locker I don't know) I could tell that this was
very much routine and quite unlikely to result in my
potential demise on the table.
After sealing my fate with my signature, she
expertly, and without any pain, not even the "this will stick a
little" speech, inserted the IV into my right arm. I lay down on my
left side and began watching the TV monitor to distract myself from
what I still imagined would be deep discomfort, to say the
least.
I did see some of the journey of the tube,
but that was about it. I was out of it most of the time and don't
remember ANY discomfort except the cramping one would experience
when bloated with intestinal gas. "Just blow it all out." she
cheerily urged me, "That's what this room is for and it's not
methane, just air we pump in to expand the bowel so we can move
through it. No perfume to it at all."
She was right of course, and once expelled, the
pain was gone. I don't think I moaned at all......but then how would
I know?
My mother may have gone through this thing without
medication. Maybe that was her decision, or maybe, given her heart
problems, they couldn't chance it.......or maybe she just didn't
really remember any of it and made up the story. Since she's no
longer a source of information, I have only my tale to tell.
And it's this; if you have ANY doubts at all about doing this thing,
just DO IT! It is, as they tell you, the best diagnostic tool
available to save you from the very unhappy surprise of colon
cancer. And it's really NOT a big deal to undergo.
My advice, ask for the Phosphate Soda clean out
and avoid, at all costs, the unhappy "golightly" horror. The
Phosphate tastes like a briny lime drink and you don't have to drink
a gallon of the stuff to create results. This will make the whole
experience much more.......um, what's the word?
"Do-able" is best I
think.
Oh, and the probability of your dying during the
thing is quite unlikely. They're just covering their butts,
something you will not be able to do during this
adventure.
As added incentive, I will tell you that I lost
four pounds too.
Now where is that Hershey's "Symphony" bar I put
away before all this started?
