“A simple procedure,” they said.

 

I’ve had my share of operations. They’ve fixed broken bones, my shoulder, and more. They’ve put in pins and posts, reduced my prostate, and removed a tumor. You name it.

 

I don’t consider myself to be a wuss outside of the normal stigma that seems to go with all males.  Ask any female, and she will quickly tell you, “Men don’t know what pain is!”

 

Maybe, but when someone says, “It is a simple procedure, don’t worry,” you want to believe them.

 

A couple of months ago, I had to have the dreaded colonoscopy.  If you have never had the pleasure, it is where they stick a camera up your backside to look inside your colon.

 

I have a history of cancer and some polyps found years ago. So, I now have the pleasure of this ‘simple procedure’ every three years.

Of course, we are not talking about your normal camera here. It’s more the size of a pencil camera. Something like Daniel Craig in James Bond or Tom Cruise in Mission: Impossible might use it. Thank goodness!

 

The key point is this: When you reach the hospital and they wheel you into surgery, you are pretty much done.  The procedure itself is the least of your worries.

 

Count to ten

It is the usual procedure. The anesthetist sets up your drip, calmly talking to you while he gets ready to send you to ‘na-na land.’ You try to act cool but, inside, you hope he gets the dose right.  Primarily so that you do not feel the camera being shoved up your rear end.

 

You don’t think about it. In a few minutes, the surgeon and six nurses will see “where the sun doesn’t shine.”

 

No, you are glad you are here, and the whole thing is nearly over.

Once you hear the words “deep breath and count to ten,” you are pretty much done.

Despite how hard I have tried, I have never been able to get past about 8. This last time, I told the anesthetist, “Tell me when I wake up how far I counted.”

 

“Sure,” he said with a smile. “Take a deep breath and count to ten.”

 

Wakey, wakey!

Once awake, you feel a sense of relief.  First, that you have woken up, and second, that it is over (until next time).

Your mind immediately becomes obsessed with ‘Where is my cup of tea and sandwich?’

 

Nothing tastes as good as that first cup of tea and sandwich.

 

“What sort of sandwich would you like?” asks the nurse.  “We have ham and cheese, salad, ham, cheese, and tomato.”

At this stage, you are not really fussy.  For that matter, you would eat the container if that were all they had.

 

Herein lies the problem.

To perform this procedure, they need to ‘clear the path,‘ so to speak. That means whatever is inside your intestine has to go. It is a bit like cleaning up the path so you can see where you are going.

 

Clearing the pathway.

As I said, I have had several of these.  They are never nice.  Talk to anyone who has had the pleasure.

This last time took the cake, though!

 

Normally, you take a preparation that you wouldn’t feed to your worst enemy with liters of water. It’s not pleasant, but you survive. That is, until it starts to take effect. At that stage, let’s just say: “Don’t go anywhere where there is not a toilet within 2 feet!”

 

Things have changed now. It seems that the level of sadistic behavior from the surgeons has increased. About three days before your operation, you must follow a ‘white diet.’ No seeds, nuts, or whole products. No colored drinks, unstrained fruit juice, pies, curry, chocolate, popcorn, or chips. And more.  It is easier to say what you can have: anything that is white or colorless!

 

Worse, you now have to take the initial prep the night before and a second one in the early morning. So, after a night of colonic heaving and no sleep, you must repeat it in the morning when you are empty. You dare not risk leaving the toilet.

 

These preparations are now also super-charged.  I passed things I had eaten in high school.

If you think, “No problem; I will give it a miss or take shortcuts,” I strongly advise against it. Two people I know were rejected for poor preparation. They were told to redo it and come back in a couple of weeks.

 

Once is bad enough, but twice in the same month is more than a koala can bear!

 

So, the next time you are told, “Let’s do a colonoscopy; it’s a simple procedure,” don’t believe them.

Go into overdrive a couple of weeks before. Eat what you want because, trust me, after these preparations, you’ll be lucky if you even have a colon left.

 

Oh!  How far did I get with my counting?

Nine!

Till next time,

Calvin