Bakersfield.com

Navigation

Support

All > Other
The Perils of Aging
By: Curt Dalton

Topics:
Posted by CurtDalton Mon Mar 26, 2007 16:13:22 PDT
Viewed 2658 times
0 responses 1 comment

I have officially reached the 1/2 century mark and like many others, I was informed by my family physician I couldn’t put it off any longer, I HAD to have a colonoscopy. 

Terror filled my entire being as I pondered the invasion of my most private part by this gazillion foot long clinical apparatus. In my entire life, nothing has ever gone in that part of my body and it seems contrary to the laws of nature that anything should ever be forced the wrong way in what is essentially a one way street.

Two days before the fateful day I chickened out and cancelled the appointment. Call me a coward if you will, but no matter what the Internet said about it being "a commonplace medical procedure" I see nothing “commonplace” about it and I just couldn't muster up the courage to go through with it.

When my lovely wife Leslie learned I cancelled the colonoscopy, she was as angry as a wife could be! Her former husband died at a fairly young age of colon cancer and she was determined the same fate would not befall me. When faced with the choice of an angry wife or a surgical procedure, I’ll pick the surgery every time – it’s a lot less hazardous! Like it or not, I had to go through with the procedure. 

After getting the “bowel preparation” medication from the pharmacy I sat down and carefully read the instructions to make sure I got it right ...

Let’s see: Mix packet “A” and packet “B” with one liter of water. Drink eight ounces every fifteen minutes so the entire liter is consumed within one hour. Wait three hours and repeat.

Seems simple enough. 

I mixed this evil potion as directed and at 4 p.m. proceeded to drink it as required. After the third glass, I was feeling full and it was difficult to chug the last eight ounces but I triumphed and polished it off. If not with gusto, at least with a sense of accomplishment.

I settled into my favorite spot on the sofa and watched the History Channel not quite sure what to expect. After about an hour, the devil’s potion had wreaked its evil havoc and I was seized with the most urgent urge to expel this evil concoction. 

A mad dash to the bathroom ensued. In my desperate attempt to cover the distance between my living room and the bathroom, anything in my way was knocked to the floor with abandon. Barely making it to the bathroom, I sighed with relief as the last of this most evil brew was expelled. 

With a sigh of relief and beads of sweat on my brow, I again settled into my favorite chair only to have my abdomen scream in pain as another wave of urgency swept over me.

Dear Lord! How long can this go on???

After my fourth trip to the bathroom, I finally felt as though I could leave the immediate area of the bathroom and venture outside for a breath of fresh air. No sooner had I walked to the end of the sidewalk than the devil inside my stomach decided I had gone too far. 

OH    MY    GOD!!!
Run               Curt               RUN!!!

Up the sidewalk, throw open the front door and sprint to the bathroom. I’m unfastening my jeans as I go. I made it in the nick of time vowing to the Gods above I would not leave the bathroom again – EVER.

As luck would have it, this was the last mad sprint to the bathroom.  (At least for now).

In spite of the agony of the past hour and a half, I think I’ll actually survive!  Whoopee!

Eight p.m. rolls around and I eye the second batch of this devils brew with a mixture of fear and trepidation. After my previous experience with this medical wonder, I have a fairly good idea what I’m in for and I am NOT looking forward to drinking this metabolic cleanser a second time. 

With a dread bordering on terror I drink this mixture again. This time, I’m not messing around. I gulp it down in large draughts in an effort to get the inevitable over with. 

I didn’t have to wait very long. The diabolic concoction took effect in under fifteen minutes. This time I was smart. I didn’t leave the bathroom until the entire ordeal was over. 

In the course of eight hours from the first sip of the evil elixir to the final colonic spasm, I have a new-found respect for the pharmaceutical industry’s ability to wreak havoc on the human body. 

It’s now time for bed and I’m feeling completely wrung out. I lay my head on my pillow vowing to make amends with whatever Gods I may have offended and promise to try to live a better and more wholesome life. But the Gods above had other ideas. My sleep was fitful. All night long I was dreaming of running down a long hallway lined with bathroom doors and every door was locked! 

I awaken at 6 a.m. feeling lousy ... I’m tired. I have a dry mouth and a headache but because of the procedure I am about to undergo, I can’t take an Advil or have a glass of water. Ugh it’s going to be a long day!

At 10:30 my wife and I head off to the medical office where the procedure is to be performed. After an all-too-short wait, I am called in and asked to undress and get into the classic hospital gown. (Hummm, now I know why they are open in the back!)


In a matter of minutes, a pleasant young nurse, Rachel, comes in and hooks me up to a cardiac monitor, takes a set of vital signs and starts an IV. She is way (way) too happy.  (Obviously, she has never had to undergo a colonoscopy!)  I feel like a condemned person must feel as they are wheeled away to the execution chamber.
THREE POTENTIAL CANCERS!

Within minutes, the doctor arrives and greets me with a cheery “Hello Mr. Dalton!”  I answer him back and he requests I lie on my left side for the procedure.

Lights Out!

The next thing I remember I am lying on the gurney in a Versed/Demerol-induced fog trying to remember who and where I am. I ask when they are going to start the procedure and I am told it’s over.

Over? Really? Hummm. 

Aside from feeling like my stomach was used as a punching bag, I’m fine. Groggy, but fine.

The doctor found three small polyps and removed them without any problem. 

Three potential cancers.

YIKES!

(Three death sentences!)

In thinking about the indignity involved in having a colonoscopy versus being diagnosed with colon cancer I got off lucky. 

You can recover from a colonoscopy. It’s a lot harder to get over colon cancer.

Send to a Friend Report a Violation
Comment From: renojadera

Wed Mar 28, 2007 15:44:28 PDT
Thanks for the information CURT. You have just scared the **** out of me. :) I will spend the next 25 years of my life dreading turning 50. I am not medically knowledgeable, but I will make it a point to purchase a lifetime supply of Raisin Bran and consume a large bowl twice a day.  Maybe I can act as a proactive agent and avoid packets "A" and "B."
Report a Violation

Log In

No account yet? Register now for free.

Forgot password?