So yeah, not a nice title, not a nice subject. Things like this give bloggers a bad name; who really wants to hear about me getting stuff shoved up my butt? But (lol) you know what? Somebody does. I know before I had the procedure, I went and looked at other people’s blogs to read about their experiences. So consider this an educational post.
From what I read and heard, the day before the test, the prep, was the worst. I was instructed to take four litres of Klean-Prep mixed with water, lemon-lime drink, or some other clean (non red or purple) liquid. I was to start at 2:00 on Tuesday, though they said if you have trouble drinking large amounts of liquid (and four litres is about two big pop bottles, and not the individual ones, the ones you have at a party), you could start earlier. I was going to start at 12:00 and was supposed to drink a cup (1/4 litre) every ten minutes.
Doesn’t sound too bad so far, right? Drinking a lot of liquid, okay, maybe will make you go pee a lot, but otherwise, what’s the problem?
The taste, of course. Everything I read said that the stuff tasted horrible, even with its “new improved vanilla flavour!”. But you know, had I not read all that stuff, I probably wouldn’t have had that much of a problem with it. The first cup went down quite quickly at 12:20 (okay, okay, I was a bit late because I was playing Farmville). But after that, I just lost motivation.
This week is Reading Week, so that means I have the week off, which worked out well considering the scope was scheduled before I even knew when Reading Week was. My dad coincidentally also took this week off to work on the house. So, awesome, right? Someone there to take care of me before/after the hospital. Unfortunately, my dad had to go into work on Tuesday to train somebody or something. So, there I was, all alone, with no one to encourage me (or force me) to drink the stuff. I called up my mom who said it would be okay if I waited until she came home and she would be there to support me. I told her I would get one litre down before she came home.
No can do. Four hours later and still, only one cup in me, and no running to the bathroom (which is what the stuff is supposed to do — it’s a colon cleanser and by the time you’ve finished drinking it all, you should be having clear, watery stool). I really don’t have an excuse for not getting any more down; I certainly could have, because the first cup was really not all that bad. It was just overwhelming to think that I still had three plus more litres to go and all this time to be constantly drinking it and all the time afterward to be constantly shitting it.
Most of what I read online said that if you’re under 120 pounds (I’m currently 97 and still not gaining anything, despite eating all the time — speaking of which, no solid food for 24 hours before the test, and daaamn was I hungry yesterday! Right away, too. And of course, every commercial, every show seemed to be about food! I would’ve loved to have just been able to lick a baby cookie to get the taste of the prep out of my mouth), you only need to take three litres. I’d also read that people weren’t able to get more than three litres down with no mention of their weight, so presumably three litres would be about enough for anyone.
I didn’t get three litres.
I don’t really want to say how much I did get, because I don’t want to encourage people to take as little as I did and still try to have the procedure done. Your colon needs to be squeaky clean because the test is basically putting a long hose with a camera at the end into your colon and checking it all out to look for irregularities (cancer, polyps, or I guess in my case, inflammation due to Chron’s). If it’s not clean, they can miss stuff. According to one of the nurses at the hospital, your colon should look like the inside of your mouth, all nice and pink. No brown stuff floating around. And finding red stuff is bad, which is why you can’t have red liquids (or cherry popsicles or jello — which are, of course, my favourite flavour!).
Anyway, I managed to get a few more cups in mixed with apple juice and water; the first cup was mixed with Sprite and water. When I was on the apple juice mix, I thought the Sprite one tasted better, but when I went back to the Sprite later, I was longing for the apple juice. It’s really about the same, I suppose. I had some Gatorade Rain to wash it down with — a drink I’d not been too fond of in the first place. But by the end of the night, man, did that Gatorade taste good.
Much crying and sitting and staring at the cup later, my dad gave me a Sprite mix in a bottle of water and told me to try chugging it, rather than taking it through a straw like I had been doing. Chugged. (Well, a Jenny chug, which is like a normal person sip :P). Threw up. Proceeded to not try again for at least an hour.
And really, you’re supposed to take this stuff fast so it doesn’t get absorbed into your body. That’s why I still hadn’t gone to the bathroom. I had done a normal bowel movement in the morning before I’d started the prep and after a light breakfast, and I mean, it was quite a bit. I hoped the fact that I hadn’t eaten anything solid for more than 24 hours before the test and the fact that I’d only had Cheerios (and chewed ‘em up real good!) and the fact that I’d emptied out before the test would mean less to empty out later. I’d read stuff online about diarrhea explosions (which I’m no stranger to, or at least wasn’t before my surgery) and terrible cramping and whatnot, and was not much looking forward to it — but would much rather be enduring that if it meant that the prep was all gone.
Mom finally decided it was time to go to bed, so I was kicked out of her bedroom with the TV in it. Dad wanted me to go downstairs with him so he could yell at me some more watch me and make sure I took the rest of the stuff, but I was saved by a bowel movement, finally. And it was watery! Hurrah! Didn’t think I’d want one of those kinda poos again, after that being all I had for months before my surgery.
Can I just say DAMN, I’ve been doing good since my surgery? DAMN!
Anyway, poo was starting to get on target; certainly not clear though. But it was watery, like peeing out your butt, and it was a fairly constant stream. I know, I know, TMI you’re thinking. Grow up, pooing is a natural function of our body. It’s a good thing I have such a good sense of humour about butts and farts and poo, considering how immersed my life has been in that sort of stuff lately.
It was getting late. I was sitting on the toilet with my head on the table I’d dragged in there and falling asleep. I eventually managed to straighten up and tell myself, alright, if you can drink this whole bottle (two cups), you can go in your nice, comfortable bed and sleep.
It took me a few hours, but I did it. Well, almost. There’s a little tiny bit still left in the bottle; I could’ve got it down with two big chugs, but I was just so exhausted. I ended up chugging most of the bottle with only a few gags and no more throwing up. It really is easiest to just chug it like a bottle of water. But I mean, I have trouble chugging normal, tasty drinks.
Quietly snuck into my room, hoping mom and dad wouldn’t wake up to yell at me some more. A few minutes later, my mom knocks at my door and asks how I did; was I still drinking, pooping? Yes, I was still pooping, but I was not drinking anymore. How much did you get down? …one and 3/4 litres.
Pathetic. I know.
It’s just a drink. I know.
I really can’t explain why I can’t drink medicines, swallow pills. Well, I can. I think about it too much and this mental block physically blocks me from doing it. I don’t know, something like that.
“Are you trying to stay sick?” my mom asks. “Are you trying to sabotage this?” my dad asks. (”Yes. Yes, I’m trying to sabotage it,” I reply sarcastically, but not sure if he caught on or not. I’m usually pretty good at knowing not to say dumb things like that that will just get him mad, but every once in awhile, a snarky comment can slip out).
They can’t believe I couldn’t do it. They’re disappointed, angry, frustrated, stressed. They tell me that they’ve prepared an operation room for me, there’s people waiting on me, counting on me to do what I’ve been told to do. These procedures cost money; thousands of dollars — thousands of thousands of dollars! Do I remember my dad saying $20,000? I looked it up just in case, and it looks more like a few thousand at most. Scare tactics or ignorance? I don’t know.
Usually when people get angry at me and try to make me do something, I think “well, they want me to do it, so I’m just not going to do it”. And of course, reverse psychology doesn’t work either. But I was surprised when I realized that thought had never crossed my mind. I really was focussed on getting it done, and not because my parents were or weren’t making me.
I don’t know if they were just plain angry and expressing it to me or if they were hoping them getting angry at me would convince me to do it. Because that doesn’t work. It didn’t work with pills, it’s not gonna work with this. But what else can they do? I’m a stubborn bitch, I know, and I don’t blame them for being frustrated with me. But all they’re doing is making me feel bad, which doesn’t make me want to take the stuff, it just makes me want to cry and not take the stuff.
Anyway, by this time, it was 2:00 in the morning. I was actually expecting it to be at least an hour later when I left the bathroom, so I was quite proud of myself for finishing the bottle so “quickly”. My colonoscopy was to be at 9:30 and I wasn’t supposed to eat or drink anything for four hours before the test, so I couldn’t even take the Klean-Prep for much longer, even if I wanted/could.
I slept for a few hours, got up at 8:00. I don’t think I got up at all to go to the bathroom during the night other than a bit around when I finished drinking. Didn’t know if anyone was even planning to wake me up, to take me to the hospital since I probably wasn’t clean enough to have the procedure done. My mom had even said to me last night that she wouldn’t be coming with me. I went downstairs and spoke as little as possible, but asked my mom what was up, were we even still going. “Of course we’re going!” she said incredulously. Okay, okay, just a question.
Dad ended up driving us there and dropping me and my mom off. I thought it was because he was the more pissed one, so he got to stay home since someone had to be there with me if I did have the procedure, but really, you were only allowed to have one person with you since the waiting room was so small.
I’m not even feeling hungry anymore. Fairly early Tuesday morning I was and throughout the day. Sometime at night, I just didn’t care anymore. After a few hours in the waiting room, I was starting to feel it again. I’m not sure what time I was called in, but it was at least after lunch. Almost all of the other people there, obviously all for the same thing, were older men. And then me, poor little girl.
Anyway, I’m to go into the room and take off all but the hospital gown and my socks and then lie down and get comfortable. I wait for a few minutes, getting my blood pressure taken, yada yada. I was told before the procedure that I’d be given some drugs through an IV and I would be “consciously sedated”, so I would be relaxed, but not asleep (though some people do fall asleep). This worried me because I did not want to be awake during it.
When I was young, I saw on TV a show about someone having a surgery which they were supposed to be asleep for, but they ended up waking up while they were cutting into them or whatever and could not tell anybody that they were awake. I think this is what stemmed my whole fear of hospitals, bodies, whatever. So this would kind of be like me facing my worst fear (besides ducks).
The worst part was the very beginning, when he stuck his finger in there, I guess to open it up or feel around or something. And then in goes the camera hose, I guess. I couldn’t really look to see what he was doing because if I moved, the thing could perforate my colon and I could die and stuff. I did, however, watch a bit on the TV screen, but my glasses were off, so it was a bit blurry. I’m not sure how long the whole thing took, maybe fifteen minutes at most? And it really wasn’t a problem. Like I said, the worst part was the very beginning. I could feel it moving around a little bit, I think. They blew air into my colon, which I was told I would then need to “blow back out” when I was in recovery (no problem, I’m a champion at that; ask any of my family, and probably my roommates). There was one point where he took a sample of part of the colon and my hand was on my stomach and I’m fairly certain I felt it, so I immediately removed my hand, lol.
So yeah, I was awake for the whole thing. I didn’t feel like they even gave me drugs as I wasn’t even slightly out of it after. That’s the only part I don’t remember: them giving me drugs. I don’t think they would forget a thing like that, but I dunno, I just didn’t feel it at all. But no pain really at all, just slight discomfort. I mean, what’s it supposed to feel like, having a hand up your ass?
When the doctor said it was all done, I asked him if it was clean enough, and he said yes. I said I hadn’t taken all of the prep, but didn’t say how much. I had told several nurses earlier when they asked and they wrote it down, but I’m beginning to think doctors never read what’s written down. How many times people in hospitals ask you the same questions over and over — you think there’d be a little more communication.
So they did it, despite my utter fail at the prep. I laid down in recovery for a bit and mom came in from the waiting room. While we were waiting before the test, I talked to her a bit, tried to keep some conversation going every once in awhile, and she even spoke to me without being prompted, and put her head on my head when I put my head on her shoulder, so I figured she’d gotten over it at least a bit. Well, I think she probably didn’t, but she just can’t hold a grudge against one of her kids. So, I talked quite a bit more to her afterwards and asked “are we cool?”. She said yes, but had they not been able to do the procedure, it would be a different story. Thank god they could, because I can’t deal with my parents being pissed at me. And my dad can stay pissed for a long time.
When I was good enough to walk (which was really right away), they let me go into the next room and have some apple juice and some sort of fruity bread, then get changed. After I got the IV nozzle thing taken out of my hand, I could go. And so, we did.
All done. I was just so happy! Still a little unsure about my parents, I’m sure they’re still a bit pissed, but they’ll get over it eventually. It’s done, after all.
Next time, I’m asking for Pico-Salax. It’s only two litres, I think. Much more manageable, less overwhelming.
So, all in all, it’s true; the colonoscopy itself is nothing to worry about; the prep is the worst. If you don’t think you can get the four litres, promise yourself you’ll get at least three and start early. Eat very light, easily digestible food for as many days as you can stand before, and don’t eat at all for at least 24 hours before the procedure. Take a laxative; they prescribed one for me, but it was a pill, so no-can-do. I really don’t recommend taking as little as I did; I was lucky. I’m also really small and I guess there wasn’t as much to clean out, plus, like I said, I already emptied out before I started the prep. Probably a good idea to drink a lot of water if you aren’t getting all the prep in. I didn’t do that, but I knew I should’ve. Basically, my story is a “what not to do” with a lucky happy ending. Well, at least until I get the results, I guess.
posted on Thursday, February 25, 2010 at 12:33 AM | no comments