It’s not a secret that I am 50 years old now and it’s no secret that my family medical history gives me a number of reasons to make decisions to live and eat healthier.  I have shared reflections and insights gleaned during the year before I turned 50 and now there are insights to share about a landmark event that blesses the life of all who enter the fifty club.  I’m not talking about receiving the AARP invite to purchase a membership.  I’m talking about the colonoscopy.

In addition to being a member of the 50’s club, my family history mandated that my doctor order this screening procedure.  My doctor actually ordered it six months prior to me turning fifty, but I just got to it a couple of months after my birthday because the digestive health center told me that my insurance might not pay since I had not turned fifty yet.  The “might not” was enough for me to put this 50’s ritual off until 50.  So, I did all of the lab work and picked up that box of powder needed for the prescreening prep and waited for 50.

From the moment my doctor said she was ordering me to have a colonoscopy, I put on the face of a kid being asked to eat a plate of broccoli and gizzards chased with a glass of castor oil.  The doctor saw my expression and gave me a similar facial expression in response and added something like, “I know.  Sorry.”  She was partly sorry because she knew how undesirable having this procedure was for most patients and because we had just finished a discussion about my sucky family medical history that required me to undergo a number of screenings more often than the average person.  I followed her instructions and scheduled the appointment.  It was clear that the folks at that office had a special calling to provide this type of medical care.  The staff had a friendly type of no nonsense, methodical bedside manner like the organized, disciplined, pragmatic approach of a school librarian.  They listened and gave measured responses.  They made me watch an informational video and take home written  instructions about the next phases of the road to the dreaded, yet necessary colonoscopy.  This visit made me understand that  this entire process would be an examination of my body from the inside out.  The process  required me to just move and not think (pun intended).  I had to nod “yes” and say “ok” and keep doing what they said do.  In my mind, there was no fact scenario that would ever make my brain welcome this process or the procedure.

One day in August after a family member revealed the details of a health condition, I was prompted to call and schedule the appointment I put off for months.  Over the course of the months that passed, I lost the colonoscopy prep instructions.  I called the office a couple of days before the screening, went by to pick up the paperwork, then realized there were things I was supposed to have started doing a week prior to the screening.  “Oh boy,” I thought.  And there were instructions for things to “avoid” four days before the procedure too.  “Oh well,” was my next thought because I had eaten many of the foods that I was supposed to avoid.  I decided to figure out how to follow the instructions for the day before the screening procedure.  The plan for the day before the procedure required me to avoid “solid foods.” I made sure I had some chicken broth for the next day and purposed within myself to use water as my clear liquid beverage of choice.

While nothing about this journey seemed entertaining to me, I got  a lot of laughs from other people the closer I got to the procedure.  I don’t miss work very often so every time I reminded people that I would be missing work that Friday someone would ask, “What’s going on?” Every time they would ask I would answer, “I’m having a colonoscopy.”  I’m not sure if I was making funny faces when I told them or if I just attract sick and twisted friends like me who think that submission to this particular screening procedure is funny.  The reactions ranged from a smirk to giggles or laughter like I had told a joke.  When the laughter subsided, the stories followed.  “When I had my first one” and “when I had mine” streamed from their lips.  I felt like the little sister being teased by an older sibling who offered me support and encouragement after giving me a hard time.  I learned from my band of supportive hecklers that I had chosen the better facility of the facilities in town.  I also learned that there was some debate about whether orange jello was permissible.  If you didn’t know, red and purple colors were prohibited so I wanted to know whether orange was allowed since red was a base color of orange.  I don’t know how other folks answered the orange jello query, but after that cup of chicken broth wore off and my staff was enjoying birthday brownies they brought for a colleague, I ate the orange jello.  I ate both of the containers of orange jello.  I appreciated that my coworker who brought the chocolate dessert that made me almost hate the entire staff thought enough to bring me an orange jello treat.  She said that she had to visit two grocery stores to find a color other than red.  I told her that I learned that I could survive off of chicken broth, jello, and black coffee with sugar.  She laughed out loud and said, “Why would you want to?”  I definitely wouldn’t want to do that, but during the cleansing process many random thoughts went through my head.

I asked my husband whether or not he had the thought that he wanted to keep his colon clean when he underwent this procedure.  I told him that it was like the thought I have after I  get my  teeth cleaned.  I didn’t think that I was the only one who ever had that thought.  He agreed that he had that thought as he chuckled about my thought process so close to the time of my colonoscopy.  Although he admitted to having such a thought, he clearly had gotten beyond that thought because the night before my procedure when I couldn’t eat solid foods he had his back to me trying to conceal a bag of chips.  I’m not sure how he thought I couldn’t hear the crinkle crinkle of the bag as he worked like a surgeon to find the perfectly seasoned chips in the bag.  I told him that he needed to just turn around and walk over to the popcorn maker with the circling spindle rotating his popcorn kernels swimming in olive oil and wait to pour the popcorn he was making into the bag with his seasoned chips.  That brought a laugh too.  I should have been a comedian.  I was bringing the funny everywhere I went.  As he tried to pretend he wasn’t sneaking chips, he turned around with reddish orange finger tips and crumbs on his mouth.  I don’t know why I expected him to do some sympathy fasting with me, but some part of me thought he might.

Since I couldn’t have any of the snacks he ate, I looked in the pantry for some packets of flavored sweetener I could use to season my cleansing solution.  I found more than a handful of packets and I learned how much my family likes raspberry lemonade.  I bought those because I believed that was one of the best flavors, but now I was concerned about whether the raspberry flavor met the definition of red for purposes of the color prohibition on red.  I opted against the raspberry flavor and split the one orange drink flavored drink powder between the two containers of colon cleansing prep drink that  I had to mix and drink.  Fifteen minutes never went by so quickly.  I had to make sure that I drank eight ounces of the mixture every fifteen minutes until I had four cups downed that night.  I think my husband tried to act like I was invisible so that he wouldn’t feel any guilt for eating and snacking the entire night.  I think he was disappointed sleep overcame him and forced him to take a break from playing hide and seek with the snacks in the pantry.

He agreed to take me to the digestive center and wait for me to complete the process so that he could take me home.  Because of the medication used to sedate me during the process I would be prohibited from driving or drinking alcoholic beverages the rest of the day.  One of my friends who offered to take me to the facility if I needed her assistance with a ride.  The day before the procedure she reminded me of her offer and added that she would be glad to take me because she knew the risk of having to depend on a football coach who might get called away and forget about me or just not be able to get me there on time.  We both laughed at the truth in that statement and I started to speak out loud about my visual of myself sitting at the digestive center all medicated waiting like a kid for my parent to pick them up from after school care.  More laughter and head shaking followed.  I told him about this conversation and the football coach jokes and he assured me that he would not disappoint.  Well, he proved that  I ranked over football that afternoon (likely because there was no meeting or game).

We made it there on time and I got all of my paperwork signed.  I turned off my phone as recommended by one of the laughing friends referred to earlier in this post.  She said, “Turn off your phone so you won’t be tempted” to text, talk, or email.  She told me a story about how she emailed someone after her procedure while she was still under the influence of the medication.  The talk about medication made me ask a number of questions while I read and completed the paperwork.  I wanted to make sure that the medication would not require intubation and that it was not expected to cause nausea that would keep me from eating afterwards.  The next time I do this, I will try to get an early morning appointment as opposed to an afternoon appointment like I did this time.  I had gone almost two days without solid food so eating was a priority for me when I entered the center.  For some reason, I did things I don’t normally do when I go into a medical facility.  I actually read the HIPAA notifications and the documents related to anesthesia and advanced directives.  I even asked questions about all of them.  I needed to be sure that I would only have a short nap as a result of medication, that the medication would be administered through an IV, and that I would be able to eat when I came out of recovery.  The kind receptionist smiled a lot while she assured me and reassured me that it would be fine and that I would be fine.  I even asked her about the advanced directives and she handed me a copy of the written provisions.  At that point, I asked her to make sure she had my husband’s cell phone number and I went to him to make sure he would not be leaving until after I was done.  He smiled again and said, “I am not leaving.”  I nervously gave him my purse to keep for me and proceeded into the screening prep area.

A really cool lady who I will call Jae welcomed me into the well-lit prep room.  The room had at least ten wheeled beds with suspended rods that allowed the nurses and technicians to move curtains around the beds.  My bed was the first on the left when I entered the room.  She asked how I was doing and we both laughed when I told her that my greatest concern at that point was whether my husband could be trusted with my purse.  She said that the ladies out front would have my back because men in the past had gotten up to go out for fresh air or food and left purses in the lobby unattended.  We laughed about how I got to answer “no” to most of her medical history questions unlike my visit to the eye doctor.  The visit to the optometrist prompted a blog post entitled, “The Gift that Keeps on Giving” http://wp.me/p6L8u0-6B which discusses my family’s awful medical history.  The laughter continued as another nurse entered to prep me for the IV.  She pointed out that the questions from most doctors are about family medical history and these were directed to my personal history.  There was one positive from an awkward moment.  I also got a laugh when we talked about the fact that I could wear lotion and deodorant which is prohibited before a mammogram.  Perspective is everything.

I am grateful for the perspectives of my friends who kept my spirits up as I got closer to the day of my procedure.  I am thankful for the professionals at the digestive center who kept the mood light, including the nurse who made me laugh when she told the patients in the prep area that they (the staff) looked forward to “good gas” after the procedures and the nurse who told the story about her sassy display of admiration for a Mel Gibson when she once recovered from receiving anesthesia.  Thank you to the friend who told me the story about the colonoscopy procedure being performed without anesthesia and to the one who offered me a caffeinated clear beverage when I couldn’t have more coffee. I am thankful for the friend who made me laugh when she talked about her disappointment that the doctor who did her procedure was “cute.”  I appreciated the efforts of my friends and the health care providers to encourage me to keep the appointment and to laugh my way through this screening process.  I never expected the kind of supportive village I found on this journey and I never expected this journey to bring the funny out of so many people.