Blogging Under the Influence.
So, today was the day for that quattrennial medical ritual, the colonoscopy. Most people, after a uneventful screening at 50 are told to schedule them every 10 years. However, with a family history of colon cancer (both parents had it in their 80s, fortunately both were caught in time apparently), I'm on the 5 year rotation.
As usual, the prep was far worse than the procedure. Starting yesterday morning with a clear liquid diet (I mean, why bother?), and last evening drinking massive amounts of laxatives and clear fluids, and the resulting fun and games, and a repeat at 4 AM. Good times!
Georgia drove me to the "endoscopy center" before the 10:30 AM appointment, and spent a few minutes helping the admitting clerk with her own search for the prefect medicare package. It is made quite clear that you will not be allowed to have the procedure if you do not have a personal driver to take you to and from.
I was taken into the clinic soon after, gave up my clothes, and dressed in the cold little gown, had a set of EKG leads attached, a blood pressure cuff, and O2 saturation finger tip, answered a bunch of health questions, apparently correctly, as they let me proceed, and added an IV drip. They also asked me who I was and when I was born, apparently in an effort to make sure I didn't accidentally end up with a hysterectomy.
Shortly there after, they wheeled me off to the procedure room, where the anesthesiologist and the GI specialist introduced themselves and asked me who I was yet again. The anesthesiologist explained that he would start to ask questions to gauge my status as he added the Propofol to the IV. He started the Propofol and started asking questions, and I woke up in the recovery room.
I was warned not to drive, operate heavy machinery, or make any important life decisions for the rest of the day because of the sedation, and I fielded a call for Walleye Pete, who wanted to go fishing. I really did feel like crap, as a result of that, and the nights festivities, and after waffling a bit, I declined.
The GI doc came in and said they found and removed three small polyps for biopsy, told me not to take NSAIDs for a week (because of the biopsies), and gave me some pretty color pictures of the inside of my very own large intestine. She explained they would call in about 2 weeks with the results of the biopsies, but that she wasn't especially concerned.
We stopped at 5 Guys for lunch, and came home, where I took a long nap, much to Skye's consternation, before getting up to pen this record of the experience. Another 5 years to go!