2/10/07---Getting to know my doctor just a little more than I wanted....

So I paid a visit to my doctor a couple of weeks ago, and he gave me a delightful bit o' news.  It was time for me to, ya know, get 'er done.  By " 'er", I mean of course, that most wonderful of procedures that most-to-all of us will get done in their mid to late 40's....the colonoscopy.  Ah yes, I just tell as you read this....you're jealous.

So I made the decision (after originally trying to talk my way out of it) to go ahead and schedule the appointment to see a doctor who specializes in the old GI.  I went there, and told the doctor why my primary had recommended I go see him (there are some things that I just won't share with you---deal with it).  He asked me some fairly general questions and then...yep, it was time to...as they say in the business....

Drop trou.

You've heard the jokes. 
"Hey doc...you don't happen to see any car keys back there, do ya?"
"Doc, you're about to go where no man has gone before..."

And you know what?  They are all true.  There's just no getting around it.  But, on the other hand, he told me that based on my family's medical history, and....ya know, a preliminary search...it didn't seem like there was anything to worry about....but still, the original recommendation was not necessarily a bad one.

I had already emotionally prepared myself for the event--after some lovely private counseling sessions with others that have experienced it--and so a date was set for....

"the procedure".

Anyone who has been in my situation will tell you that the worst part of it is the day before.  That's when you are given this vile concoction that at best tastes like a bad Alka Seltzer and at worst tastes like....you don't wanna know. 

12pm--the day before.  I had a pretty light breakfast, ya know, some toast...that sorta thing and began to take the prescribed 4 pills.  One every 15 minutes.  After that, I slurped down a bowl of chicken broth (it actually says on the box--"to help things along"--OH MY!!).  About an hour later....time for the really rough part.  Time to drink the mixture.  And ya know....its not completely horrible....just mostly.  The real problem is that you have to drink 8 oz ever 10 minutes.  And its a whole pitcher full.  Which means that you are drinking 48 to 64 oz of this over the course of an hour...now that is disgusting.  To quotea co-worker:

I swelled up like a tick.

Which is probably why I threw up about 45 minutes into it.  But I digress.

Eventually you find yourself clean-as-the-proverbial-whistle.  (You really didn't expect me to go into even MORE detail, did you?)  But it is one nasty feeling.  The wife took the kids out to dinner that night (Outback--DOH!) so I wouldn't be tempted.  Yeah right.  Depriving me of my God-given right to cheese fries!  Ahem.

Surprisingly, I didn't feel as empty as I obviously was.  After midnight, the order is that you cannot drink or eat anything....I was actually pretty lucky that my procedure was scheduled for early in the morning so I could get it out of the way.  Kim and I got to the hospital and did the check-in and we were quickly processed up to the out patient area.
My nurse was Diana, who was very pleasant and who had been doing her job for just over 25 years--at least I was in the hands of a veteran.  The clothes came off and the lovely and oh-so-discreet hospital gown came on.  Diana went over the procedure with me and answered my questions ("When can I eat?") with lots of patience.  She assured me that what I had gone through the day before (the "concoction") was far worse than anything that would happen that day.  After a short wait, I was wheeled towards the operating room where the procedure would take place--at this point, the wife pretty much deserted me (hey, I gotta tell it like it is)....but she had too.  It was just me, the doctor and....my friend to "the rear".
I get into the room and go over some items with the anesthesiologist as he begins the IV.
I complain about the crappy music playing on the hospital's radio.
"Got any suggestions?" I'm asked.
"Yeah...how about some U2, Springsteen or maybe some Bob Seger?"
"Ya know, one of our nurses is a big Bob Seger fan."
"Oh yeah?  Well you tell her that I said...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"

Yep, it takes about that long for you to be out like a light.

The next thing I knew I was being wheeled into my recovery room where my wife was sitting.  All I remember was yelling....

"WHERE'S THE FREAKIN BOB SEGER MUSIC I ASKED FOR????"

Kim said I talked about some other things regarding....well, let's just say that's a story best told....at another time....suffice to say, if I had been coherent, I'd have been embarrassed.  So there I am, laying on my side (yep) and half in the bag from the IV and I hear the doctor say two very wonderful things.
1) Everything is A-okay....no problems.
2) Because of your anesthesia.....I don't want you to work tomorrow.

Looks like no work tomorrow!!

Later,
Jeff