***due to the method most of this was noted it has not been proofread***
Day 1
Don’t be fooled. Doctors are out to humiliate us, from the one size fits all gowns to the finger insertions into our holiest of holes.
And just when you thought to yourself, “I have to take a poo,” was an every day thing, I am preparing for my first colonoscopy at the age of 41. There’s nothing wrong that we know of, it’s just a little prevention due to some family history.
To start, I went to the grocery store last night and picked up a 238 gram bottle of Original Prescription Strength MiraLax along with a 64 ounce bottle of Gatorade. I’m to mix the entire bottle of MiraLax into the Gatorade and drink it all in a short amount of time. I read the instructions on the MiraLax bottle and it says 17 grams, or one capful, per day. So, I know this is going to be good. Along with that concoction, I’m also to take four Dulcolax pills. That’s a whole lot of lax. From there, it’s “Ride ‘em cowboy!”
So, my thinking on this is, “why not document the whole experience. And that’s why I’m here. I have no idea what to expect, but I’m sure this isn’t going to be like going to the movies. If you’re not into this sort of thing, I’d advise you to just stop reading now and imagine the horror.
6:00 a.m. – Had my first regular movement. That’s totally normal.
6:30 – Another one. No pills or any type of Lax. My main brain must be playing games with my other brain. He’s totally psyched him out.
7:00 – 11:00 – Went to work. Had to explain to a few people why I was going to be out for a couple of days. A fun time was had by all.
11:30 – Home. I have mixed the MiraLax in with the Gatorade, spilling a bit on the counter and floor. I now have visions of my dog licking the powder off the floor, creating a whole new problem.
12:00 p.m.– Took first of four Dulcolax pills. One every 15 minutes. They’re about the size of a BB. Downed it with some Gatorade from my 128 ounce bottle of backup Gatorade. Gotta stay hydrated. I’m really hungry. Last night I had my last solid meal until tomorrow night. I made a Cajun Hamburger with two MGD’s in a can. I figure if it’s my last meal, I’m going Trailer Park style.
12:12 – In anticipation, I have cleaned my toilet, laid out three extra rolls of toilet paper, and put a book by the toilet.
12:16 – Took second Dulcolax pill. Stomach seems to be doing something. I’m sure it’s in my head. I wonder if this is going to be like the poo magnet… you know… the closer you get to the toilet while driving home in a panic, the more you have to go. OH! That wasn’t in my head. Things are happening. Just FYI… I anticipate that while typing I will have to make a run for it. If I’m in the middle of writing a paragraph and have to go, I will note it with “D” for “dumped” rather than just talk about every single one.
12:32 – Pill number 3 down. I’m getting feelings.
12:47 – Pill 4 down. Now what? An hour and a handful of minutes until the MiraLax.
1:21 – All’s quiet.
2:00 – Ok, here comes the real drinking. Time to start in on the MiraLax. One 8 ounce glass every 15-20 minutes until all 64 ounces are gone.
2:03 – Ok, first drink down. Tastes like thick Gatorade. I’m also working on some chicken broth. I didn’t realize 8 ounces was one cup. I should have paid attention in that cooking class in high school. I’m worried about the warnings… nausea, sweats, etc…
2:55 – Four cups down of Satan’s Brew. It’s starting. A demon baby has crawled inside my body and now wants out. Do I just go in and sit there and let it happen, or do I wait until it’s going to be big? I made it through the entire DVR’d recording of Conan hosting his first tonight show. That may have been my last uninterrupted show for the evening.
3:00 – Ok. I’m changing the code from “D” to “L” cuz that was no dump. Round one in the bathroom complete. I didn’t know it could look like that.
3:23 – I don’t think it’s going to be the pooping. Try drinking 64 ounces of thick Gatorade in and hour and a half. It’s making me sick. And I feel round two cooking.
3:26 - Um… ok… what the Hell was that. I felt like a girl. And the smell! What is that? We’re not supposed to do that. And a word of advice… never second guess anything. If you think you might have to go… go. That walk to the toilet isn’t easy when your system is saying, “NOW!” Did I mention I’m trying to watch the DVD “He’s Just Not That Into You” during this whole process? It seemed like the right pick.
3:30 – The UPS guy just made a delivery. I slipped my shorts on (Yes, I’m in my underwear. How would you do it?) and went out to get the package. Who would have thought that bending over in front of the neighborhood would have resulted in such an issue?
3:33 – Three trips down. It feels like worms. Why does it feel like worms?
3:45 – That swill is gone. Although I’ve crapped a lot more than the average day, and calling crap is a compliment, I thought I’d be off to a bigger start than this.
4:06 – I’m pretty sure my spleen just tried to escape. Call me the Octo-mom.
4:10 – When you’re running into home and your pants are full of foam…
4:24 – L #7
5:17 – Why’s it… yellow? I really wish I had paid more attention in health class. “He’s Just Not That Into You” is taking forever. Pause…. splash… pause… splash…
5:20 – It’s never just a fart.
5:25 – Is that Gatorade?
5:35 – I’ve lost a few pounds.
6:00 – It’s been over two hours since the last sip of Gatorpaste and I’m still working like a Terminator.
6:26 – It’s so hot in here.
6:31 – Just finished my chicken broth. The last of my… gotta go.
8:50 – The horror seems to be ending. I drink something. Give me 20 minutes and it’s out, but at least that puts me back in control.
The night quieted down. The liquid seemed to move back to its normal method of expulsion, meaning I started peeing again. I was amazed that for the volume of liquid I took in I never peed. Tomorrow will be the big day. I’m still hoping downing the 64 ounces of nuclear sludge was the worst part of this whole event.
Day 2
After having trouble getting to sleep (probably just nerves as I felt fine), I woke up early as well. And guess what… I woke to one last splash. Although I suppose that will happen every time I drink anything.
7:06 a.m. – Consuming the mass amounts of liquid helped me deal with hunger issues more than I thought it would, but now that I slept and haven’t taken in nearly as much to drink, I’m starting to get hungry. But I won’t be eating until at least after 5:00 I’m guessing. And even then I’m sure I should take it easy. There’s nothing in my system. Eat the wrong thing, eat too fast, or eat too much and I could wind up in some pain.
11:30 – My parents show up early to take me to the hospital. Dad can’t hold back and does everything he can to make me feel uncomfortable. And first thing we have to do… stop at McDonald’s so they can ear. Remember… it’s Wednesday morning and I haven’t eaten food since Monday night.
12:30 p.m. – We get to St. Vincent’s. Dad continued trying to make me nervous the whole way there. The thing is he didn’t have to try. I had been nervous all morning. I wasn’t afraid of the needles, the procedure, or anything like that. I had never been put under before. I ask the nurse at the registration desk if she had anything to put my dad out with.
1:00 – They take me back to my room after I filled out all the paperwork and signed all the forms that allow them to perform malpractice on me without being sued. I have changed into a tiny little gown leaving my ass hanging out. I hear they’re the rage in France. The nurse starts running through all the questions again. Am I allergic to anything? Yes, forty feet of cable up my rear.
She then pulls out a good sized needle, wipes my hand, and ties me off like a junkie as she starts tapping my skin for a good vein. Thanks to my genes, I’d make a terrible junkie. Nobody can ever find a vein. But she finally does and crams the straw sized needle into my hand and tapes me all off.
1:30 – I’m all alone and just waiting for 2:30 to hit. I hear the anesthesiologist begin to speaking to the guy in the next room getting the same procedure. “So, what are you hear for?” Shouldn’t he know that? The doctor had a thick Russian-esque accent.
“Colonoscopy.”
“Ah, my paperwork here says brain surgery,” the doctor says with laughter. The nurses, the man, and his wife all laugh along. They go over a bunch of stuff and I watch the man get wheeled away. That’s me in one hour.
2:00 – Half hour to go. My ass is getting sore from sitting in the same position for so long. I start contemplating things. I can still throw my clothes on and get out of here.
2:15 – The man next to me is wheeled back. The first thing he says is, “are we done already? That went fast.” That leaves me feeling a little better.
2:30 – The anesthesiologist and a nurse come to my bed. The anesthesiologist asks, “So, you are?” I realize they could make one mistake and I’d wake up with a vagina.
“Stutzman. Sean Stutzman.”
“And what are you here for Mr. Shoozman?” That Rusky accent is thick.
“A colonoscopy.” I knew what was next. How do I play this?
“Oh,” (all together now) “I thought you were here for brain surgery.
This man literally has my life and ass in his hands for the next hour. “Ha ha ha ha ha…”
He asks a couple more questions about allergies and sleep apnea. All my answers are no. He slips a needle into my IV and gives a little squeeze. Nothing. I’m fine. More questions. I answer. Why’s the room out of focus? More questions. More answers, but I begin doubting my speech. We roll into the procedure room. I see my doctor there who had checked in with me earlier. They roll me onto my side and ask me to get into a sort of fetal position. Black.
I have no idea what time it is. I open my eyes. There’s a light blanket over my face? Am I in the morgue? I hear voices. I feel tugging on my butt. Oh crap! I’ve woken up in the middle of the procedure. I don’t know what to do. Do I tell them? I’m wide awake! But, there’s no pain. Just a lot of tugging.
The blanket lifts. It’s the drug guy. “Am I supposed to be awake,” I ask.
“You’re doing just fine.”
“Ok, because I can hear and feel everything.”
“Are you in pain?”
“No.”
And then I go out again.
3:15 - I wake up as I am being rolled through the door and into the hall toward my first room. I feel wide awake and able. They put me back in position. The KGB agent tells me that he suspects very mild sleep apnea stating my breathing stopped for a few seconds while snoring and he had to bring me out and put me under a lighter sedation. We discussed this for a bit. The doctor then comes in and tells my I had three polyps, two small and one larger one. He feels everything was ok, but would test them and tell me the results when he has them. Holy crap!
My mom and dad come in. I’m feeling unusually fine. I was ready to go right then and there, but they wanted to watch my breathing as they thought I was still sedated. It takes several minutes to expel all the gas they had shot up my bum. This stuff should be on America’s Funniest Home Videos.
4:08 – After being watched, and then rolled out in a wheel chair to the car, we headed home.
4:30 – We arrive home. I thank mom and dad, and say goodbyes re-assuring them I am fine. I make a giant batch of Mac & Cheese and drink 36 gallons of Gatorade. My Xbox skills are top notch, convincing me that I am completely fine. I have defeated the narcotics. I have defeated the ass doctor. I’m good for three to five years when I get to do it all over again. Stay tuned for the sequel.
Thanks to Mom, Dad, Dr. Huyn (pronounced Hee-On), all the nurses (especially Bay who has the best bed side manner ever), and Dr. Stalin.
