Let’s talk shit. Poop. Bowel movements. Bathroom habits. The Brown Fairy (Nobody calls it that, please don’t.) It’s not talked about enough, and I’m not shy. Well, at least, not that shy.
Since Sunday, March 7th, I have been taking a darling little pill called Linzess. Small, white capsule. Harmless looking. The doctor said it would encourage me to poop daily in prep for my colonoscopy on Monday the 15th.
Since that time, all I have been doing is sitting at my computer waiting for - oh shit, brb.
*Toilet flushes. Oh wait, now the toilet is flushing. The previous sound was pooping.*
Anyway, I’ve been having to rush off to the bathroom as my bowels go from, “Hey, just a heads up, in a little while, you’ll want to visit the restroom,” to, “YOU ARE POOPING IN 5 SECONDS WHETHER YOU’RE IN A BATHROOM OR NOT, BITCH!”
It’s been a lovely experience of trying to determine how well I can clench my cheeks to stop from having an accident. I thought I had better control than I actually did, and poor little naïve me shit my pants. Twice.
So, here I sit, on a towel on the couch with several layers of clothes between me and the couch. And I am dreading my appointment on Monday.
The reason I need the appointment in the first place is… ugh, hold on.
*Cue Niagra Falls sound coming from the bathroom.*
Okay. So, now the toilet handle is broken. Maybe it’s been meaning to happen for a while now, but the timing is suspicious. Have I really been pooping so much I broke the toilet?
Anyway. The reason I made the appointment. I was having irregular bowel movements. Sometimes I’d go four or five times a day. Sometimes I’d go four or five days until it was actually painful.
I didn’t change my diet or anything, so I figured it was something else. I mean, my diet’s not spectacular by any stretch of the imagination, but I eat food and drink soda on a fairly regular basis.
The other factor in deciding to see a doctor was that I had a family history of issues. Colon cancer, colon polyps, diverticulitis, irritable bowel syndrome, and so much more.
Talking to the doctor was not as horrible as I thought it would be. Again, I’m not a person to shy away from the facts of a situation. Talking with this woman (who was clearly ready to pop out a baby) about my bowel consistency, frequency, size, color, etc. was not traumatizing at all. In fact, the worst part was when she had to put her hands on my flabby tummy and press around to see if I was having any weird pains.
See, I may be able to talk about vulnerable things, but actually being vulnerable is quite different.
I’m not exposed physically very often. People who know me probably can’t even recall a time they’ve seen me wearing shorts, let alone pictures of me just in a swimsuit. Because I don’t go swimming and I don’t wear shorts. I’ve got weird body issues, and I know I need to address them. So, here I am, thinking the worst part of this whole colonoscopy crusade is going to be baring my ass for a few medical professionals.
Of course, I knew I had to do the liquid as well. it’s four o’clock Sunday afternoon, and I’m playing Dungeons and Dragons with online friends because, damn it, I want to play. But I drank the liquid that’s supposed to give me a royal flush while I was in the middle of a battle.
I thought I was prepared for this, given all the pooping this past week. But I’ve got to tell you, that stuff is legitimately the worst tasting stuff I’ve ever had in my entire life. It seriously almost made me vomit. Like, mouth-watering, “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” type of concern as I hunch over the toilet just in case, leaving my DnD comrades wondering where I was in the middle of battle. But, I was able to hold it together.
This poop came on a lot faster than any previous poop on the pills. And boy, did it work. After several movements, my poop was basically water. Which I think is what they’re going for.
I went to bed Sunday just before nine o’clock to try and get some sleep and take my mind off of my growling tummy (no solid foods). And I was promptly awake at midnight and every hour after until five o’clock rolled around. At 5:30, I had to start the second bottle of Suprep.
Is it just me, or is it a missed opportunity to call this stuff Puprep? Just saying.
I handled the second bottle much better than the first. I plugged my nose before I started drinking everything, and I drank it all in one chug. But as soon as I un-plugged my nose, the full taste hit me. Luckily, I’d thought ahead, and had Sprite on hand, the sweetness overpowering the pure YUCK. I only gagged once.
So, now, I prep for my appointment at 9:30 (have to be there by 8:30), and I have to say, it’s not hitting me that I’m going to be really vulnerable both before, during, and after. And I don’t think Trent can sit in the waiting room with me, as they have signs saying ‘patient pickup/dropoff’ at the front of the building. I’m really going to be dependent on Trent to help me get home.
I’m totally good being vulnerable with him, it’s the doctors I’m worried about. My grandma was only about ten years older than me when she had 20 feet of her intestines removed due to cancer. While my logical brain is telling me it’s probably just going to be Irritable Bowel Syndrome, and maybe a few polyps, the creative side of my brain is doing a really good job coming up with all the life-ruining scenarios that can happen.
But, I’m getting ahead of myself. Apparently, they’re going to tell me… sigh. Hold on.
You know that sound that happens when you dump soup in the toilet? That’s the sound.
Anyway, they’re going to tell me the results while I’m still recovering from the anesthesia, so I’m not sure what I’m going to remember.
At least I’m wearing the right shirt for the occasion.
My Randy Rainbow shirt took on a whole new meaning this week.
The Colonoscopy
That weeklong buildup was for that? Okay, yeah, the prep was the absolute worst part of this whole experience.
Honestly, even getting naked wasn’t as bad as I feared. The gown was big enough that it covered me completely - though I thought it was rather low in the front, revealing my goodies for them all to see.
The nurse who did my IV had a heck of a time getting my vein in my hand to cooperate, and I think the term she used was ‘positional.’ I refrained from making any jokes about my sex life.
Then, I sat for a good chunk of time, messaging my family and sending them pictures like this just to freak them out.
Again, the fear in my eyes is more just apprehension than actual fear.
My procedure was supposed to be at 9:30, but they ended up wheeling me back into the room at 10:04. The nurse had me verify the basics: who I was, when I was born, and what I was doing there.
“Chris Cole, {birthdate}, and I’m here for a colonoscopy.”
They had me scoot up on the bed and laid me back down, plugging in all my tubes and wires (including the little oxygen dispenser in my nostrils), and had me turn on my side. I was laying there and felt a slight coldness in my hand, which told me the anesthesia drip was now entering my body.
Me in slow motion: “I think it’s taking effect…”
And I woke up later, still on my side, back in the room I started in. I still had the little heartbeat monitor on my finger. As I fiddled with it, I realized I was a little wet… back there.
Oh God, am I bleeding? *Checks* Just residual liquid poop. But I was still a little under the influence of anesthesia, so I told the unfamiliar nurse who came in, “There’s a little mess.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “You ready to get dressed and go home?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Are you ready for me to be ready?” I’d literally woken up maybe five minutes before this.
Turns out, Trent was already waiting outside. I told them he was going to come in my pretty blue car. Instead, he drove his car, which is silver and not as pretty as mine. I told the nurse so as she helped from the curb and into the car.
“Okay,” she said soothingly. Then, we were off.
I don’t remember much of the conversation in the car, but I remember I suddenly realized how hungry I was, and demanded we stop for a cheeseburger.
“There’s oatmeal at home,” Trent offered. “Something maybe a little easier on your stomach?”
“I haven’t eaten food since Saturday evening,” I replied forcefully. “I want. A. Cheeseburger.”
Trent, knowing full well it was a bad idea, got me the cheeseburger. We got home to a dog that was grateful to see both of us, and I chomped the whole thing down.
I, one minute later, said, “I think the burger was a bad idea.”
Trent, eye twitching, slightly explodes and then reels it back in. But, I lean in and give him a kiss, then decide it’s time for bed.
So now I sit, six hours after being knocked out and probed, writing about the whole experience. And I’ve got to say, the fact that they didn’t find anything makes me really unhappy. Not even a little polyp? But, then why are all my poops at irregular times? Maybe it’s like they said - Irritable Bowel Syndrome? I don’t have any follow-up appointments scheduled, so I wonder if they thought I was just wasting their time.
I did learn that people 40-50 years old are seeing higher instances of colon cancer, and I overheard the nurse say that she knows someone who died of colon cancer at 51 because they caught it too late. She also said her mom died of it. No wonder she works where she does.
But now, I move on to normal life happenings and events. I’ve got other things to focus on, and that definitely includes ways to make my bowel movements normal. Adjusting my eating habits and fiber intake will definitely help. I even got a pamphlet from the doctor about high-fiber diets.
I obviously didn’t look at it before screaming for cheeseburgers.
The moral of this whole story? Shit happens, but when it’s not normal, it’s best to get that shit taken care of.