More than you ever wanted to know....seriously

If you're squeamish, uncomfortable with bodily functions, or want to preserve your image of me as a proper lady, then seriously, don't read this.

Today I had a procedure.  It starts with a colon and ends with an oscopy.  Ooh, my sphincter just got all out of sorts just typing that sentence.  I'll spare you the details of the symptoms leading up to this, but the -oscopy (my tush and I don't like the word in it's entirety, so we'll just whack the first half of it off) was essentially to make sure that I didn't have anything bad lurking in my bowels. 

If you're under 50, then hopefully you have no idea what all goes into this process.  And if you're over 50, hopefully you're intimately familiar with it.  Anyhow....to get a good look at....er....what is needed to be seen, your bowels have to be empty.  Accomplishing this feat requires a full day of consuming only clear liquids followed by a cocktail of gatorade and some lovely medications designed to make you go go go!  Are you grossed out yet?  Because if you are, you can totally stop reading this.  I won't be offended. 

I left the hospital early yesterday, telling my staff that I had "a procedure."  He said something like, "Oh, okay, none of my beeswax...."  I think the whole breastfeeding thing freaked him out enough and he didn't want to hear any more about my bodily functions.  After I left the hospital, I went to my parent's house for my "prep."  My dad, being a seasoned veteran of the -oscopy, was my self-appointed bartender for the evening.  He whipped up my cocktail (sans any booze - dagummit!) and kept me on schedule.  And he poked a bit of fun at me as well, because really, you kind of have to have a sense of humor when you're running to the bathroom every 5 minutes (think Dumb and Dumber).

So keep in mind I can only have clear liquids....gatorade, water, tea, broth.  None of which even come close to filling you up, and by 5:00 I was freaking starving.  This was right about the time my dad whipped out the STEAKS he had bought and started marinating them.  Um....are you kidding me?  What had I done to deserve this kind of torture?  Oh, okay....I'll just sip on my sad little bowl of broth while you guys feast on steak and potatoes.  I didn't expect my family to participate in my fast, but for the love of Pete!  Have some respect!  And some cereal for dinner.  Apparently the steak was delicious, and my mom's was cooked "ah, just right!"  And I'm sure Danny's was absolutely delectable, and I think that my dad's probably melted in his mouth....whatever.  There will be reckoning for this....

The rest of the evening went well and I spent the night at my parent's house because the doctor's office is right down the street from them.  At about 2 in the morning I woke up shivering.  I had a long sleeved shirt and sweatpants on and was curled up in about 4 blankets but I couldn't stop shaking.  About that time I started feeling really crappy and decided that I must have the flu or something.  Then the nausea hit and I spent the next few minutes in the bathroom.  Ah, that toilet is so over me!  Then I did the only thing an intelligent, almost 30 year old woman would do under those circumstances....I went and got my mommy!  Because really, when I'm not feeling well, she's the only one qualified to take care of me.

I started feeling better (I think I had a little dehydration/non ion gap metabolic acidosis - for you nerds out there), and I was able to get back to sleep fairly quickly...with my mommy next to me, of course.  Then morning came and Danny drove me down to the doctor's office.  When I checked in, the receptionist thought I was scheduled for an upper GI (sticking a scope down your throat to look at your esophagus, stomach, duodenum....), when I told her it was the other end, she looked at me like, "Oh....well....that's bizarre....what the heck is wrong with you?"  That was comforting.  At least let me think that 29 year olds get -oscopys all the time and it's really no big deal.

When they took me back they asked me a whole lot of questions, made me get undressed and then asked me if I could be pregnant.  My 99.9% certainty that I wasn't didn't fly with them and they made me take a pregnancy test.  When it came back negative, the nurses all congratulated me.  Danny seemed a little disappointed. 

Then they started my IV and rolled me back into the procedure room where I met the lovely Dr. S.  Then the nurse anesthetist started the propofol and I was out in like 2 seconds.  When I came to, Danny was walking toward me in the recovery bay.  The first thing I said to him in my clouded mental state was, "They gave me propofol....that's what killed Michael Jackson." 

A few minutes later, I was pretty lucid and Danny showed me some paperwork that they had given him (he was my official "responsible adult" who was there to take care of me - which makes me giggle).  The paper had a box checked next to the word "biopsy."  Along with the -oscopy word, biopsy is right up there with my least favorite words.  When I hear biopsy, I immediately think cancer.  Just like when I hear the word delicious, I immediately think of Matthew McConaughey - you get the idea.  So this freaked me out a little.  I was sure that they'd found some huge necrotic cancerous mass and that I should just start preparing for the worst.  But a few minutes later, Dr. S. came by and said that the only thing he saw was a small polyp and that he really wasn't concerned.  Ah....pheewwww.  It will be sent for pathology and if it's pre-cancerous, all that means is that I'll have to have -oscopies every 5 years, but if it's nothing, then I'll get my next one when I'm 50, like normal people.  Then the receptionist won't give me such a funny look.

So....that was my adventure today.  I'm sure you could have done without hearing about it.  Sorry.