Wednesday, November 24, 2010

To boldly go where no man has gone before.

colonoscopy  co·lon·os·co·py (kō'lə-nŏs'kə-pē)
 Examination of the inner surface of the colon by means of a colonoscope.

11/22/2010… I turned fifty a couple of weeks ago and it was time to get the scope rope out and see if years of eating broccoli has done its job or if there is something lurking beneath the depths of my body that is going to make my life a little more interesting than I generally like it to be. I’ve never truly loved broccoli, but they say it’s good for you so I’ve done my part in eating it raw, eating it steamed, eating it cooked in a dozen or so dished, and as far as I can tell, nothing is seriously wrong with me. But then again, as much as some people might aver otherwise, I’ve had my head up my ass for quite some time. I think I’ll get a note from the doctor stating he did not find it there. I went and saw the doctor, got a prescription for a half gallon of something I do not like the looks of, and began the process at two in the afternoon. I had taken the pill at two, and waited until six before drinking three quarters of the two liters of vileness.
I figure my experience as a professional drinking is going to pay off here. I’m used to drinking large volumes. I can handle this, right? The first glass wasn’t so bad. Fifteen minutes later the next glass wasn’t that good, fifteen minutes later I was sitting in the toilet with the next glass and could barely stand it. Fifteen minutes later and the last glass wasn’t wanting to go down, the third glass wanted to come back up, and the two previous glasses were firing out of the other end a lot quicker than they went in. I had settled in for the evening. This is what it was going to be like for the rest of the night. At two I got up and it seemed to never end. At six I got up and drank the rest of it, and at ten I was hoping it was all gone, because it was time to go.
Okay, it’s paranoia, but there is a reason people have colonoscopy, What if they find something? What if it’s as big and ugly as it can get, and I’m out of time? What if I have to go through chemo and radiation, and I have to do this prep work for each time they go in, and it becomes sort of a hobby? Bert’s leg is better, but no one is going to take care of him like I do. Sam needs his head petted two or three times a day and Lucas, oh Lucas, who will put up with him? I think they would feel as if they had done something wrong, and they would think I left them. Bert would die waiting for me to return. What if they find something.
To boldly go where no man has gone before. There is also a joke in there about Klingons and Uranus, but I seem to be running a little short on humor right now. I haven’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, I have had no coffee, and I feel like if I fart there is going to be a wet spot the size of a Chihuahua in my pants.  Elbow and her youngest son has very generously offered to drive me there and back again, but I think I’ll be okay. I was once a professional drinker, remember? Things go very smoothly and the woman tells me she’s going to give me two shots. The first is a pain killer. That one goes into the IV and I feel a slight burn. I’m ready for the sleep shot. I’ve prepared for it. I started last night getting geared up to beat this thing for as long as I can, and see if I can actually handle their sleep drug one on one. I’m telling you, if I can stand up to Jack Daniels as a hobby, this stuff can’t touch me.
I come to, sort of, on the way home. I don’t remember anything at all past the last shot, and don’t remember that. Elbow and her son are talking about something but I don’t hear them. They drop me off and for the first time in over thirty-six hours I can eat, and there is coffee. Coffee! Sure, after something like this it isn’t a good idea but my head hurts. I have to get some caffeine in me or die. I eat some rice and beans and lie down on the sofa. Two hours later, I call Elbow and she comes to get me, so I can pick up my truck from her house.
It’s an odd feeling being that stoned. I don’t feel as if I went through the procedure, and it occurs to me something went wrong, and I didn’t do it. It strikes me odd I have no memory of it ending, or getting dressed, or leaving the place. I feel gassy, cramped, and hungry, but other than that, okay. I call Elbow and she comes to get me, to get my truck back, and to feed me leftovers from Thanksgiving they had early in the week.
Elbow laughs when I ask if everything is okay. It’s the fourth or fifth time I asked, she says. No, everything went well and your colon is “perfect” as the doctor put it. Perfect. That’s good, right? Nothing was fond, nothing at all, and suddenly I realize how scared I was. My stomach hurts, and I’m still gassy, and I’m still getting cramps, but I am alive, and otherwise healthy.

It’s only eight thirty, 11-23-10, but I am already feeling sleepy. The food is kicking in. The coffee is wearing off. The colonoscopy is over, for at least another ten years or so. They didn’t find anything. That’s one less thing to worry about.

Take Care,


  1. If you saw my comment from "Full Moon Mutts Nov 2010", I wish it wasn't true, but alas, it still is! ;-)