Posted by
Charles Mudgeon on Monday, July 23, 2007 6:32:16 AM
Shortly after being diagnosed with Crohn's disease, Mrs. Bubbles Mudgeon got to have a colonoscopy. This was no big deal as it wasn't happening to me.
The night before the procedure, she got to take some pills or other, and she got to mix something in Gatorade. Again, no big deal as it wasn't happening to me. As I recall, she spent some goodly amount of time in the john.
The next day we went for the procedure. All went accord to plan and when everything was concluded, the doctor came to get me. When we got to where Bubbles was coming out of the drugs, the doctor spread out a bunch of pictures of Bubbles' colon.
My first thought was: No wonder I married this old broad, that's one incredibly cute colon. The doctor had arranged the pictures and for all the world looked like a rep from Olan Mills about to pitch me a package of wallet, 5X7 and 8X10 size pictures.
When he finished, I asked, "Who has the distribution rights for the DVD?"
Since I normally say this sort of thing with a straight face, and since surgeons of retirement age do not have a worldwide reputation for having a sense of humor, he thought I was serious. I got a lecture about there not being a DVD and all about privacy rights of patients. Like anyone else would recognize Bubbles' colon - even though it was incredibly cute.
Time passes and about 15 months ago, it was time for me to get a colonoscopy - something I had been putting off for years.
I met with the doctor (a much younger one) and he explained to me everything that would be happening. He got through the pills and the Gatorade and then he got my attention. He said that he would be blowing air up my butt so that he could see what was going on. I could only picture myself morphing into an inflated Garfield in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.
There were precise instructions as to when I should take the pills, drink the Gatorade, etc. And at this time Bubbles was in the hospital recovering from a second operation after that incredibly cute colon ruptured. So I had to do it alone.
I took the pills and drank the Gatorade - I had to drink five gallons of the stuff and, it should be pointed out, I don't hold five gallons. As it turned out, that didn't make any difference. As fast as I was putting things down my throat, they were blasting their way out the other end. When all was said and done, I was so empty that you could come over to me, put your ear to my mouth, and hear the ocean.
The procedure went well. Well, that is if you consider being drugged in a small room clearly designed by the Marquis de Sade to be "well." It had the 50 foot length of garden hose that, to this day, I choose not to think about, and nurses and other people off the street who were enjoying this much too much.
Calamity drove me to and from because you're in no condition to drive for several hours after a colonoscopy. After getting me some dinner (Thank you, daughter dear.) she left me to fend for myself. In this case she butt out. (Get it? Butt out? Butt? Fine.)
I went to bed almost immediately. Then it hit me. All that air. It was still there. And I was very uncomfortable.
I couldn't burp it out. And I was afraid if the other end let go, I'd fly around the room like a balloon. Then I wondered if it was just air. What if it was helium? You know what happens if you breathe helium and you talk, don't you. Well if the doctor had blown helium in me, I just didn't know what to expect. But the way I felt it could have been the 1812 Overture.
But I survived. Just as President Bush survived on Saturday. And they found I had some polyps. They weren't cancerous, yet. So I get to play that game again in another 18 months. And I will.
And so should you. Plan to get a colonoscopy by the time you're 50. That way you might actually do it by the time you're 60. It wasn't as bad as I may have led you to believe. And it could save your life.