May 4, 2018
Dear Everyone:
I survived my first colonoscopy this week.
Some of you may be wondering, “First?
Shouldn’t you have done that quite a while ago?”
Well, yes. My previous
Primary Care Physician (PCP) recommended having one when I turned 50.
In fact, he told me he was going to get his soon, since we were
the same age. In his medical
opinion, everyone should have one at age 50 “just in case”.
But first, being the analyst that I have always been, I did some
research. An Internet
company that offered medical advice had a whole section on what was
entailed in a colonoscopy.
It indicated that the first thing the patient would do is go 3-5 days
ingesting “clear liquids” only.
When I was a college student (way back in the Stone Age), I had a
part-time job working in the kitchen of a privately-run hospital in
Portland. I knew exactly
what “clear liquids” meant.
It meant going nearly a week without eating absolutely anything.
This was to give the patient’s
digestive system time to clear
everything out. To make the
doctor’s job easier during The Procedure.
Next, 24-48 hours prior to The Procedure, the patient was required to
mix a medication with water and swallow the whole thing within a certain
amount of time. The
medication was designed to give the patient 24-48 hours’ worth of
galloping diarrhea, also to clear out the digestive system.
The patient was allowed to “sip clear water” to try and get the
taste out of their mouth.
Finally, on the day of The Procedure, the patient was advised to have
someone else transport them to and from the doctor’s office, since the
patient would be administered a “mild sedative” to “help them relax”
during The Procedure.
Translation: The “mild
sedative” was intended to keep the patient from kicking in the doctor’s
teeth during The Procedure; and to keep the patient’s screaming from
driving all the other people out of the office.
Because, after 24-48 hours’ worth of galloping diarrhea, having
something along the lines of a
plumber’s snake rammed up your ass could
just possibly be very painful.
To recap: Starve for a week.
Then take a poison that will make me deathly ill for a couple of
days. Then go through The
Procedure. Then spend
several days recuperating.
Plan to take vacation for that week, because being extremely hungry
tends to make me very, very cranky.
And biting off the heads of co-workers is bad.
Especially when I wouldn’t be allowed to swallow anything solid.
Then find someone else who can take time off from work to drive
me here and there.
In other words: No, thank
you.
The next time my PCP recommended a colonoscopy, I demurred.
He somewhat testily remarked that it was “only a 40-minute
Procedure.” To which I
replied that it was “only” 40 minutes for the doctor; it was a weeklong
ordeal for the patient. He
didn’t bring it up again because
Congress, however reluctantly, passed
the
Affordable Care Act and the PCP promptly sold his practice to his
associate and retired early.
And that’s how things stood until a few months ago, when I landed in the
hospital overnight. This led
to a meeting with my new PCP, the associate who took over the old PCP’s
practice. She recommended a
colonoscopy, among other things.
Since I no longer work for a living, having to take vacation
couldn’t be used as a viable excuse.
I figured, just go and get it over with.
The PCP referred me to a
gastroenterologist, “Dr. Sammy”, who just
happened to work in the same medical group to which the new PCP had
moved her practice. “Dr.
Sammy” was very nice, explained everything and, as it turns out, things
have changed in the past 15 years or so.
Starving for a week is now out of fashion.
A “recent study” showed that just avoiding certain foods works as
well as avoiding food altogether and makes the patient much happier.
In fact, the instructions simply advised, “No nuts; no seeds;
avoid salads,” for two days before The Procedure.
Also, the medication designed to clear out the digestive system had been
refined over the years and no longer took two days to finish the job.
I just had to take the first dose in the afternoon before, then
the second dose five hours ahead of The Procedure.
Of course, that meant getting up at 3:00 in the morning to take
the medication, since The Procedure was scheduled for 8:15 am.
I drove up to “Jeannie’s” place around dawn, as she had “volunteered” to
be my driver. The Procedure
took place at a Surgery Center attached to the major hospital not far
from “Jeannie’s” home.
When “Dr. Sammy” asked me how the medication had affected me, I told him
that it went through me “like Sherman through Georgia”.
Apparently, “Dr. Sammy” has never visited the
Deep South and had
never heard this expression before.
But he considered it quite apt, as well as amusing.
The kindly anesthesiologist, “Dr. Chas”, administered something he told
me would “knock me out” for a brief period.
To which I replied, “I appreciate it.”
And then they were wheeling me into the Recovery Area.
And looking for “Jeannie” who was enjoying breakfast in the
cafeteria.
“Dr. Sammy” came by to report that “everything looked fine” during The
Procedure. Translation:
All of that effort and brief suffering was completely
unnecessary. He finished
with a cheery “See you in ten years!”
That’s right: No need for
another colonoscopy for ten whole years.
As “Jeannie” very sagely pointed out:
A lot can happen in ten years.
“Dr. Sammy” may move his practice to
Tucson.
I may move to Tucson.
My current PCP may have a monumental fight with her husband, get
divorced, and leave his medical group, thus never recommending “Dr.
Sammy” to any of her patients again.
And, most importantly,
Donny the Trumpet will no longer be
President.
Love, as always,
Pete
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