In Through The Out Door
You’ve probably seen the ads featuring a bare bum and the words “don’t die of embarrassment”. Maybe you’ve heard Darryl Sittler talk about the loss of his wife Wendy to colon cancer. There may come a time when your doctor says the dreaded word: colonoscopy. I am here to tell you that my depths have been plumbed and there is nothing to fear but fear itself.
The up-periscope test was first suggested to me by a specialist a couple of years ago. At the consultation, this wonderful Dr. at McMaster in Hamilton and I mutually agreed that there probably wasn’t a need to roto-root at that time, but if my symptoms changed, I was to call. They changed, I called, and the countdown was on.
I have endured a couple of endoscopies – that’s the one where the camera goes down the throat – without sedation. It’s doable as long as you don’t panic at the feeling of strangulation for about 15 minutes straight. I’m told that some people also go au natural for an entry at the opposite end but even I am not that tough. The worst part of the entire experience is preparing for the test the night before and I’m not talking about studying, or cramming, rather, quite the opposite. You must drink 4 litres of a special liquid, which sounds impossible, but is not. Then nature takes its course.
Once my gurney was wheeled into the examination room, I had a lovely chat with my Dr. during which I told him roughly 6,000 times that I would please like to be completely asleep during the examination. Normally they sedate you to the point of glorious delirium, but you are still essentially awake enough to watch the TV screen showing a reality show of the camera’s travels through your innards. My Dr. patted my head reassuringly and the last thing I heard was him telling a nurse, “Let’s give Lisa the full dose of sedative.” I remember exactly nothing until he woke me up 25 minutes later to tell me he found no problems. There was no, shall we say, evidence that anyone had been near my back door. No pain, no discomfort, except for my gut full of air, which is necessary to expand the bowel for viewing. Air goes in and later air comes back out. It’s the circle of life.
Why am I telling you all of this? To demystify it a bit. I’m telling you because if you’re putting off this medical test out of fear, you now know that all things can be negotiated, including the amount of sedation. You don’t have to have a single memory of any of the potentially embarrassing stuff. It’s really not that bad. There will be dozens of people on the same assembly line the day you go in and you’ll soon realize that it’s pretty routine. The doctors have seen it all. What makes you think yours is so special, eh?!
I even jokingly told my Dr. that my greatest fear was that I would somehow become the patient they would be telling stories about years from now, as in, so-and-so was so gross/disgusting/troublesome/weird. He laughed and said he would be glad to tell me about his patients who really were the grossest and weirdest, but he would wait until I was asleep. As I said, I remember nothing. Just more proof that your secrets are, indeed, safe.
