There will be no cuts.
No incisions.
No stitches.
“We use holes that are already there.”
That is, word for word, how the gastroenterologist described my upcoming colonoscopy today.
It turns out that Dr. GI fancies himself a comedian.
I will admit that I was bitter as I sat in his office this morning. I am 27 years old. A colonoscopy wasn’t on my list of things to do for at least another quarter of a century.
And so I told him that. I told him that I didn’t know why I was there. That I could tell him right now what was causing this increased pain.
Endometriosis.
Nothing more, and nothing less.
I would bet good money at this point that there are no ulcers or hernias or anything else they may think they're looking for.
There is only endometriosis.
There has only ever been endometriosis.
“I know why you’re here.” Dr. GI rebutted though. “Every patient I have seen today has a history of endometriosis in fact.”
Oh.
Apparently this isn’t a completely uncommon test to get when you have severe endometriosis.
Damn this disease. I should have had at least 23 more years before I had to worry about someone trying to stick a probe up my backside.
After a few more of Dr. GI’s clearly practiced jokes, he agreed that based on my symptoms; I did need to sign up for the full probe.
And so, we scheduled.
For next Wednesday. As in, less than a week away.
“Fine” I thought. “I can deal with this. It’s just a short period of discomfort. I’ll be fine.”
Wrong.
Did you all know that when you get a colonoscopy, you can’t eat anything the entire day before? I am going to have to be on a clear liquid diet only starting as soon as I wake up on Tuesday morning.
My actual procedure isn’t scheduled until 2:30 on Wednesaday.
Which means that by the time this is all said and done, I won’t have eaten anything in over 40 hours.
And suddenly, the concern over spending that much time hungry far eclipsed the fear of being probed.
I am not a nice person when I’m hungry.
I am a curvy girl! A curvy girl who likes to eat!
Then I looked at my calendar, and realized that I had scheduled that elusive crown for next Tuesday at noon.
Which means, I will be sitting in a dentist’s office with my mouth propped open and needles going into my gums for over an hour and a half; on an empty stomach.
If the whole thought of the crown situation didn’t make me nauseous before, it will certainly make me nauseous when I’m hungry.
Plus, getting a crown one day and a colonoscopy the next?
Excuse me while I put on my reading glasses to apply for my retirement benefits.
I called Loo up as I was exiting the office.
Because it turns out that this whole “procedure” can’t take place without a little IV sedation (thank you for small miracles) and I won’t be able to drive myself home afterwards.
“Hey Loo” I stated as I left her a message. “I hope you’re free next Wednesday. I’m having my butt probed, and I’m planning on being so traumatized after that I probably shouldn’t drive. Call me when you get a chance.”
I love my Loo. She’s seriously better than a husband when it comes to being my partner in crime for these medical excursions.
Of course, I would love her even more if she was the one getting the colonoscopy and I was the one driving.
But hey – at least they’re only using holes that are already there.
ADSPACE
