My Above Average Colon

Last week I did something I’ve never done before. 

Bungee jump? Swim with sharks? Take shots off a stranger’s body?

Not exactly.

Though, there was drinking involved.

A bottle of Magnesium Citrate, followed by sixty-four ounces of MiraLAX, consumed in 20-minute intervals.

We’ll call it Happy Hour.

And the fun didn’t stop there. This was followed by a trip to my local surgery center where doctors inserted instruments (surgical, not musical) into certain orifices…well, you get the idea.

I had my first colonoscopy. 

(Aren’t you glad this isn’t a picture book?)

I had been dreading this procedure for months and was becoming increasingly anxious. When I get anxious, I over-share. The week of the procedure, it was all I could talk about.

“I’m having my first colonoscopy,” I said.

“That’s nice,” The FedEx guy responded. “If you could just sign here.”

“I’ve heard the day before is the worst,” I told the woman behind me in Target.

“Oh, really…” she trailed off, before switching lines.

“Thank God for Anesthesia,” I said.

“Si,” my gardener nodded, and returned to mowing the lawn.

The real fun started two days before the procedure. I was instructed to drink a bottle of Magnesium Citrate at 6 PM. It was almost 6 and I hadn’t had dinner. I was starving, and this would be my last meal for almost 48 hours.

Like Jesus and death row inmates, I was about to embark on my last supper. 

The nurse, whom I had spoken to earlier, recommended a light dinner.

Did she forget I wouldn’t be eating for almost 2 days? Did I mention I was starving? Did she even know what she was talking about?

Fettuccini Alfredo it is.

After dinner, I sat down and opened a 2017 bottle of Magnesium Citrate. (I heard that was a good year.)

“Mmm, citrus,” I sniffed.

I took a sip. “Mmm, tar.”

It took me over an hour to gulp down the entire bottle. It wasn’t just the taste or the smell… It was how it made me feel. Within minutes, the tarry substance coated my insides; I was bloated and nauseous.  It took several hours before the Magnesium and Fettuccini stopped waging war in my stomach.

I guess the nurse did know what she’s talking about.

The next day was a blur of broth and green Jello. 

More than anything, I dreaded the evening. . I would, once again, be forced to consume mass quantities of nauseating liquids.

That night, teary-eyed and trembling, I mixed MiraLAX into 64 ounces of Gatorade and took a swig.

Holy crap, it was delicious!

Okay, maybe “delicious” was a stretch, but it wasn’t bad.

MiraLAX is an odorless powder, so it was basically detox Gatorade. Throw in a few orange slices and we might as well be at a soccer game.

The next morning, I checked into the Surgical Center. After filling out paperwork, the receptionist said, “Now, you do have the option of local Anesthesia, where you would be semi-conscious and feel some things.”

Who are the people choosing this option?

Perhaps these are the people who think, Hmm, you know who I’ve always wanted to meet? My colon.

I don’t have that desire. I trust that my colon is in the correct location, doing the things a colon should be doing.

“I’d like to be unconscious and feel nothing,” I told the receptionist.

She nodded. 

“There is an additional charge for general Anesthesia.”

“What’s that?” my husband piped up.

“You can’t put a price on comfort,” I said.

The bill we received later said otherwise, but still, worth every penny.

Once in pre-op, I was given a gown (not formal) and some warm fuzzy socks.

“Mmm, cozy,” I told the nurse, wiggling my toes in the socks. “Do I get to keep these?”

She gave me a look.

Am I the only one who thinks soft socks would make for the perfect colonoscopy party favors?

The nurse wheeled me into the surgical room. “The doctor will be in shortly.”

“And the anesthesiologist?” I asked.

“She’ll be here in a minute.”

Phew. I know most people think the doctor is the star, but to me, the anesthesiologist is the true headliner.

A few minutes later, the anesthesiologist entered the room. “I’m Dr. Abdul.”

“I love you,” I whispered.

Moments later, an IV was inserted and something wonderful called Propofol trickled into my bloodstream. A nurse counted, 10, 9, 8…

And like Snow White, I took a really good nap.

Unlike Snow White, there were no dwarfs, princes, or magical kisses.

Who knows, maybe there were?

That stuff was really good.  In fact, when I came back, I was tempted to ask for more. 

Are you sure we’re done? Do you want to check out some other organs? Let’s get Dr. A back in here. 

A few days later, the doctor called with the results.

“Everything looks good. No polyps and your colon is in good shape.”

I wasn’t surprised. I’ve always felt I had an above average colon.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t recovered. My post procedure headaches and nausea had diminished, but everything I ate was going right through me, no matter how bland the diet. 

When I told my doctor, she responded, “Well, that’s not good.”

That’s not a phrase you want to hear from your doctor…

After a few days, we got some answers.

“You have E-coli,” my doctor confirmed.

Well, that’s a pretty crummy party favor.

She explained I had most likely contracted it from the instruments used at the surgical center. Next time I’ll remember to ask for the sterile instruments.

My daughter panicked when I told her. “Oh my God, you’re going to die!”

“E-coli,” I enunciated. “Not EBOLA.”

Turns out E-coli can be bad, but in non-medical terms, I contracted the not-so-bad kind.

Within a few days, my symptoms subsided and I was finally on the road to recovery. The best news was that my above average colon and I wouldn’t have to make an appearance for another ten years.

Hallelujah! 

No more pesky doctors inserting instruments where they don’t belong.

Then, last week, I received an appointment reminder card from my gynecologist. 

And the fun continues….