But I'm Only 33

I was reticent on blogging about this, but I figure you never know who you can educate or help through your experiences.

Last Thursday I had a colonoscopy. There. I said it. Out loud. My last CT scan showed a 'thickening of the colon wall.' Which the gastroenterologist said was probably due to the contrast not making it to the colon, blah blah blah, and to cover our collective doctor asses, we have to do a colonoscopy.

I cried. I cried the whole way home from the doctor's office. I'm tired of being poked and prodded and examined. I'm tired of prepping for invasive tests.

In preparation for this particular test I had to:

Not eat all day the day before, with the exception of 'clear liquids'. Clear liquids mean things they think are food but to your gaping, empty stomach aren't really food. Like broth. And jello. I just kept drinking tea without milk, Sprite and beef broth.

Purchase a half gallon of Gatorade (no red or purple, which of course are the only flavors I drink).

Purchase a bottle of Miralax.

Purchase a package of Ducolax tablets.

Find a 'responsible adult' to drive me to my appointment. Luckily, Tommy squeaked in on this one.

So. I ate nothing but clear liquids the Wednesday before. Of course on this day, there was steak for lunch, a breakfast with eggs and bacon and some little person classroom was baking something. It was torture. I finally gave up and ran a long lunchtime errand - dropping off the cello for some work to be done on it. This kept me in the car for a good hour. Of course, I then noticed how many eateries there are on Grand Boulevard in Baldwin.

At the appointed time of 5:00 I mixed the Miralax (which cautions you on the bottle not to exceed their recommended dosage except under the care of a doctor) - the entire bottle into the Gatorade and started drinking. I learned that you really can't go by instructions - the instructions said to drink 8 oz. every 10-15 minutes. I figured I was fine if I just kept the cup full and kept drinking continuously until the bottle was empty. (I was right - I was told my prep was perfect!)

About 7 or 8 I had to start running to the bathroom. I was well prepared though - I had the latest issue of Bon Appetit, Molly Wizenberg's new book and a puzzle book. But it really wasn't that bad - it wasn't like when you're sick and doubled over in pain, you just have to get to the bathroom quickly. And by the end of that part, I felt pretty good actually.

The next day I kept myself busy with errands. Then we made our way to the office. They were running an hour and a half behind schedule. Grrrrrr. And of course every older person in the waiting room was bitching and moaning about it. It took every nerve I had to keep from yelling, "Shut up! We're all waiting, you're not making it any easier by complaining!"

They called me in and had me change from the waist down. It was actually nice that I could keep my shirt on - it lessened the procedural feel of it. The anesthesiologist came in and got started. Let me tell you - I think sometimes they're more important than the 'main' doctor. The anesthesiologist gets you all set, talks to you and kind of sets the tone. He was great. Then the gastro guy came in. I rolled on my side, asked if I should feel burning when they injected the anesthetic and.....that's all I remember. Honest. Next thing I knew I was waking up. I flexed certain parts of my body, curious to see if I'd notice a pain or anything. Nothing.

Then home I went to relax the rest of the day. Watched "Twilight" (a not-so-bad encapsulation of the book) and ate a panini from Panera with bacon on it. Bacon makes everything better.

I'd take one of these over a CT scan ANY day of the week.