What I Did Thursday

I was scheduled for my first colonoscopy. The specialist (AKA Gut Doc) wanted to do it to see if he could find any diverticula or any other abnormalities to explain my problems.

I had to drink this foul drink called “Colyte” the night before and the morning of. I managed to drink the first half (of four liters) Wednesday night. However, Thursday morning all plans were tossed out the window. I awoke at 5:00 (Lorna woke me to get started on the drink) to a roaring migraine. I was also nauseous which doesn’t happen too often during my migraines, thank God.

I poured a glass full of the drink and raised it to my mouth. My mouth refused to open. I sweet talked it into it with promises of a glass of juice for each glass of foulness I managed to down. We compromised and I got seven gulps down in a row.

If you’ve never had the pleasure of drinking Colyte, you just don’t understand. Colyte is, basically, salt water with electrolytes. And it is thickish. It clings to the tonsils, throat, that doohickey that dangles in the back of your mouth…it ain’t a good drink.

I paced around the house, banging my head on door jambs and the like in an effort to make the head explode and get it over with. I went back to the kitchen and again talked my mouth into swallowing another 7 gulps. I somehow got three gulps of the third drink down. But I knew no more was going in. I knew, just as I did with the first glass, that it was not going to stay in my stomach. I had hopes it would go down quickly before it came up. No such luck.

If you ever have the chance to have Sierra Mist come out your nose, pass on that chance. It ain’t worth it. I hurled up the juice, the Sierra Mist, and the foul drink.

Lorna went and got me some Arizona Tea and some coffee in an attempt to get some caffeine in me and calm the headache down. I drank the coffee and some more Sierra Mist. Nope. Up they came, too. Not as pretty as the first time, either.

We called the Gut Doc Office to discuss my problem. How can I drink that foul stuff in order to finish cleaning out? Gut Doc decided I should keep trying to drink the stuff and if necessary, they would give me a wonderful enema when I got to the hospital. Whoohoo.

I took an anti-hurling pill and, after waiting a half hour, tried to drink more. Nope. There was no way my mouth was going to open. I just couldn’t do it.

We get to the hospital and make our way through the maze to the Endoscopy unit. I fill out some forms, wait a while, then get shown to a little room to get undressed and get prepped. Now is when the real fun began.

Since I had been “cleaning out” my intestines, I’d been losing a lot of fluid. I’d drank a lot the day before to compensate for it. But the morning activities of vomiting and not being able to drink anything without it coming back up, meant I was dehydrated.

I don’t have good veins. None at all. This way cool nurse comes in (older, mature, been a nurse a long time which I like) and pulls up a chair to start the IV. Poor woman. She sighed as soon as she saw my right arm and mumbled a prayer when she felt it.

Because anesthesia requires a big entry-hole, hospitals now have this wonderful habit of first numbing the area. However, when a vein won’t cooperate and the nurse has to wiggle it around in there, no amount of numbing is going to make it not hurt. The first one didn’t work. The vein wouldn’t open enough and when she took out the needle, it decided to bleed like mad. There was blood everywhere. Okay, not everywhere. But close enough. It soaked through the wad she put on there, dripped onto the bed, my lovely gown, and the floor. It soaked through the second wad of gauze, too. She tried the left hand. No luck there, either, but it at least didn’t spurt everywhere. She called in reinforcements.

The second lady tried to find something big enough. She didn’t have any luck with the first stick on the left hand. That’s when another nurse started looking for possible veins on my feet. Luckily, she found one that cooperated on the right hand. On the side, actually. I’ve never had one there and I’ve had them in some weird places. The opened the IV full blast to get me hydrated.

Meanwhile, because the IV thing was taking so long, all the other nurses with all their other jobs they have to do with patients, were coming in. One went over my paperwork, clarified a bunch of things, went over medications, went over all my ailments then was flabbergasted when I casually mentioned something else later. See, I forget what I have wrong, medically. She turned back to that other section and we entered in the ones I’d forgotten. She was a hoot, though, and we got along well. She was doing her dammedest to distract me from all the slapping, prodding, rubbing, cursing, praying, and poking my arms and hands were going through. She was cute, too, which helped. She asked me how much I weighed and I told her “none of your damn business.” She laughed. I didn’t. But I did have to tell her so I did.

Another nurse came in to do something else (hell, what was she doing??). The first IV nurse came in to take blood from a finger to test my glucose level (88). Then another (either new or one of the returnees, I can’t remember) to ask me questions about my depression.

Are you feeling suicidal?
Right now?
[pause] Yes.
No. Want to cut off the top of my head, though.
[pause]
She has a migraine. [someone filled her in]
Oh.

Then entered the anesthesiologist. With him was a trainee. He (the doc AKA Drug Man) was hilarious. She (the trainee) was overwhelmed. Apparently, a patient is graded on various points. There’s how wide a mouth can open, how wide the throat is inside, and how wide the chin is (as in how many fingers the doc can put in that soft part of your throat, just behind the front jaw bone of the chin). I, apparently, am a Level Three. A rarity. I know this because he used me as a chance to educate the woman. She was overwhelmed, did I mention that? She was the one that got to inject me with the “cocktail”. I said I didn’t like cherries. The nurses who were still in there who had been exposed to me the longest, they all laughed. The Drug Man laughed too. But not the overwhelmed trainee or other newbies.

Did you know you can inject a patient with this cocktail too quickly? Yep. She did. They used a big needle, but not as big as they usually do. So the cocktail should have been given slower in order to not “blow” a vein. Luckily, however, they were already filling me with the IV fluid to get me hydrated which meant my vein was a little better prepared.

That cocktail, with or without cherries, doesn’t take long to work. I open my eyes and see the Drug Man standing at the foot of my bed, explaining to the overwhelmed trainee about something another.

Oh God. I see two of him.
Two of me? Which one you like better? This one (pointing to himself) or the new guy? (pointing to the formerly empty space beside him)
The new guy. Quieter.

Room explodes in laughter again. Have I mentioned that I have a migraine going on? Have I mentioned there is a lot of stimuli going on in this small room?

That’s the last I remember.

Poor Lorna. She was there the whole time. Doing her best to distract me. To help me remember everything. But I think she was overwhelmed too. There were a LOT of people in that room.

Me, Lorna, IV nurse #2, IV nurse #1 (who goes in and out a lot), Drug Doc nurse trying to get all the information, Drug Doc nurse backup, Drug Doc, Drug Trainee, another nurse who couldn’t figure out how to enter information into the computer, some other doc (someone from the Gut Doc office??), and at least one or two other nurses.

When I wake up, I am trying to remove the oxygen thing from my nose. I think it is my CPAP and it’s not on right. Then someone promptly puts it back in and tells me to stop taking it out (it is not my first time, it seemed). Someone, the same person I think, asks me, quite loudly, that I need to pass more gas. Me, in my stupified state, complied with gusto.

Remember I didn’t get all that drink down? Which meant I wasn’t as clean as I should have been? They were discussing whether I needed a shower or not.

At some point, Lorna is allowed in. Oh how good it felt to see her! Something stable! Someone that didn’t tell me to pass gas on command! She did, however, slap my hand when I tried to take the oxygen thing off again. I mumbled something about CPAP (in my head, I was saying real words, but aloud, it was gibberish). But Lorna properly interpreted and explained to the nurse. The nurse (why the hell must they shout?) explains it is the oxygen tube and I must leave it alone for a little while longer. I must not remove it. It is not my CPAP mask. It is supposed to sit there that way.

I leave it alone. Anything to get her to not yell at me anymore.

I talk to Lorna some and slowly my mouth is matching what my brain is saying. They finally take the oxygen thing out and they bring me something to drink. Word has followed me about the vomiting and the migraine so they ask me after every sip if I am nauseous. I think they put something in the IV to help with that since nausea is a common side effect of the anesthesia.

Lorna had the privilege of waiting with another lesbian who’s partner was also have a colonoscopy done. They were new to the area and didn’t know how they would be treated as a couple. The Gut Doc comes and speaks with Lorna and after he leaves, the other woman is thrilled that he treated Lorna so nicely.

They decide I don’t need a shower since Lorna is there to help wash my butt cheeks. She also has to help me dress. I am not very good at it when I am sober. Toss in the drugs and I was a mess. The nurses also know that the stick (aka crutch) is mine for a reason and are very helpful. Okay, they were scared I’d fall on my crap covered ass. But they were helpful.

On the way home, we stop and get something to eat. I eat a Wendy’s burger. Yeah, not something I should have eaten but I was starved.

I slept most of yesterday. I even went to bed when Lorna did which really freaked the dogs. I screwed their routine and they were confused.

I slept most of today, too. Lorna woke me this morning to eat some cereal and take my meds. I went back to bed not too long after she left for work. I think I have the sleep out now.

Oh! Right! What did they find!

No diverticula. No polyps. No mass. Just healthy colon. They did take three biopsies while they were in there. One in the descending colon, the transverse colon, and the ascending colon. He said something about “spastic colon” being my diagnosis. I looked that up today and it is another name for “irritable bowel syndrome“. Oy. I’ve had that dx before and it was ruled out or dropped or something. We’ll see.