I have pictures.
Pictures of my insides.
Pictures I was thisclose to posting here.
Before I realized – that’s disgusting! No one needs to see that!
Needless to say though, my colonoscopy turned up a perfectly healthy colon.
Which as I mentioned before – is exactly what I knew would happen.
There are no other issues causing my pain right now. No polyps, or ulcers, or anything else that my doctor was trying to rule out.
It’s all been ruled out now.
The only problem here (the only problem that has ever been here) is endometriosis.
And now we’re back at square one; trying to determine what to do about that.
A game plan which will hopefully present itself soon.
I have to admit, I had a minor freak-out yesterday morning. As I was gulping down the last of the cleansing solution (and taking swigs of blue Gatorade in between every sip of poison), there was a point when I realized I had gone too far.
I had pushed my stomach too much.
And…
I wound up running to the bathroom, where I lost the last few swigs of blue Gatorade right into the sink.
I looked in the mirror and realized my lips were blue. Dark blue. Noticeably blue.
And suddenly, I remembered seeing something about certain dyes being off limits pre-colonoscopy.
In a panic, I rushed out to the kitchen where I had my instructions. Right there, in big bold letters, was exactly what I had feared:
NO LIQUIDS DYED RED, ORANGE, BLUE, OR PURPLE.
I practically started crying. What was I going to do? That morning alone I had consumed an entire large blue Gatorade.
The evidence was all over my mouth.
And there was just no way I could possibly do this again. If I called and told them I had made a mistake, and they told me I needed to reschedule the entire procedure, I would have given up.
No joke. I would have packed my bags and moved to some third world country.
Where I’m fairly sure butt probes and bowel preps don’t exist.
So instead, I decided to be a rebel. I made the ultra mature decision to simply hide the clues.
I still had about 15 minutes left where I was allowed to consume liquids, so I choked down another gallon of water while I could. Hoping to flush all the blue out.
Then I brushed my teeth to rid my mouth of the dye.
And I brushed.
And I brushed.
It took 3 thorough brushings before the blue had finally disappeared from my lips and tongue.
I knew I was in trouble.
Still, when Loo picked me up, I said nothing. I sauntered into the digestive center, and filled out my paperwork as though nothing was out of the ordinary.
I ignored the menacing blue dye likely working its way through my colon.
When the nurse came in to prep me, I worried she would be able to tell.
Was it possibly still tinting my teeth? Clinging to my mouth? Shouting to the world that I had broken the rules?
Me. A girl who never breaks the rules!
I sat nervously as she spoke.
So nervous in fact, that I didn’t even realize it when she flippantly said “You’re going to be so bloated after this that you’ll feel like you’re 9 months pregnant.”
I didn’t notice, but she did.
And worry quickly crossed her face.
“I’m so sorry!” She gasped. “I know you’ve been trying to get pregnant, and that was incredibly insensitive of me to say!”
I have to admit – I was impressed. This wasn’t a gynecological procedure I was having after all. In fact, I couldn’t recall anywhere on the intake paperwork where I had mentioned my IVF cycles at all. And the fact that I was getting this colonoscopy obviously had nothing to do with trying to conceive.
It had to do with endometriosis, but not with my actual efforts to become a mommy.
The fact that she knew I was trying really struck me. It meant she must have dug deep within my files. It meant she was a nurse who cared. A nurse who took the time to learn about her patient to an extent that wasn’t really necessary to complete her job for the day.
Either that, or it’s possible she reads my blog.
Which would be kind of cool too.
It was impressive though. I’ve obviously had doctors who haven’t taken the time to get to know me as well from my charts, and this woman was only seeing me for a few short hours on one day that would quickly pass.
I immediately liked her.
And I stopped worrying about whether or not she would discover I had broken the rules.
Rules I had technically forgotten all about, but had still broken nonetheless.
Of course, when she continued to apologize (clearly distressed by her own faux pas) to the point that I started to tear up a bit, I was ready to change the subject.
But her clear compassion was heartwarming.
She went through everything that I could expect throughout the procedure. The fact that I would be administered drugs that may or may not put me to sleep, and that I would need to take it easy the rest of the day.
Then she gave me my paper gown and had me go to the bathroom one last time.
Where I hate to tell you that what came out, was stark blue.
I was really in trouble.
I shuffled back into the room practically naked, and submitted to the IV in my arm.
The whole time worrying that my mistake was only moments away from being found out.
Dreading the doctor pulling the probe right out and telling me I would have to return another day.
As I sat there (naked and exposed) worrying about the blue seepage coming out my backside, the nurse returned.
This time frantic.
She had forgotten to have me provide a urine sample.
For a pregnancy test.
I almost had to laugh. First of all, I hadn’t been allowed to drink anything in 4 hours. I absolutely had no urine left to give.
Second of all, I think it’s a safe bet that I’m not pregnant.
I must have given her my most practiced “Are you serious?” look, because she quickly reached for a form from behind my bed and placed it in front of me.
A form attesting to the fact that I had no reason to believe I was pregnant.
I signed without hesitation.
Frustrated that this has to be an issue with every medical procedure I’ve ever had.
Wishing that there wasn’t such a need to add insult to injury.
And also saying a silent prayer to the little miracle baby inside my belly who obviously doesn’t exist.
But who I also wanted to apologize to, just in case. Because if he was in there, he had just spent the last 24 hours being subjected to the same torture I had put myself through.
And I’m pretty sure at that point; the little one growing inside of me would have been far more concerned about how the clean out fluids were going to affect it’s fastly forming appendages.
Not so much about the probe that wouldn’t be coming anywhere near it.
Or the IV sedation drugs that were going to be making mommy a little loopy.
OK, a lot loopy.
Because there I was talking to the baby in my stomach that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt didn’t exist.
I had lost my mind.
And as the minutes passed, it only got worse.
The room was spinning, I was on my side, and…
There was something in my butt!!
When the heck had that happened?!?
And how did I miss it?
From that point forward, I was awake for the entire “procedure”. Talking and interacting, but completely and totally out of it.
Imagine yourself at your most drunk, moments before blacking out.
That’s where I was.
And the one thing that was predominately clear as I stared at the screen in front of me depicting everything the colon camera was showing?
There were pools of blue liquid.
Everywhere.
Throughout the entire thing.
Gatorade.
Just chilling in my colon.
Bright blue.
I hate to say it, but it was actually kind of pretty.
And yes, I was high as a kite.
The doctor even remarked on it at one point though. Making the comment that he was a little worried about all this blue stagnating in there.
I think he was baiting me. Trying to get me to confess to breaking the rules.
I kept my lips tightly sealed though.
Or at least, I think I did.
It’s just as possible that I blabbed the entire truth to him. While also reciting the sordid details of my last 5 relationships.
Oh to be a fly on that wall. I bet those doctors hear all kinds of amazing things.
Before I knew it though, it was over. And the worst thing I remember is there being a great deal of pressure in my stomach. Not even pain. Just pressure.
And being told that everything had come back clear.
Despite the excessive amounts of blue dye.
So now, I wait. Hoping to hear back from my doctor soon regarding her preferred plan of action.
The next step in combating this disease.
Whatever that should be.
Knowing that if nothing else, at least I learned one valuable lesson from this little adventure of mine.
Always read the directions.
And avoid food dyes at all costs.
Because I am sad to tell you; that stuff is still making an appearance today.
And I don't think it's so pretty anymore.
ADSPACE
