Colonoscopy

 I had a shortage of creativity over the past week which has resulted in re-posting this item from 3 years ago:

I am recording the recent events connected with my recent colonoscopy so I can read it in about four years to allow time to move to an unlisted address before the next notification is mailed for the 5 year follow up.

A few weeks ago, I received a rather innocuous envelope from the Minneapolis VAMC.  Upon reading the letter, it said I had an appointment for a follow up colonoscopy for the surgery of seven years ago.   Seven years is a long time and memory must have failed me. 

I put the appointment on the calendar and thought nothing of it for a number of weeks until a package was delivered by our mail lady.  It was too large for the mail box-that should have been the warning.

I opened the package and found a gallon jug with a powder in it that was called GoLytely.   Because of the passage of time I thought nothing about it.

The jug just sat there, but something in the back of my mind was raising a concern, but I couldn't quite place it.

The night before the colonoscopy, the instructions said to add lukewarm water and shake the jug to dissolve the powder.

In retrospect, its arrival in an unmarked wrapper should have been a warning.

I am convinced this is rocket fuel sent in powder form because liquid form is too dangerous to send through the mail.  The two parts when combined, powder and water, take on the form of a propulsion that could have powered the Apollo Rockets.

After adding the lukewarm water (hot water may have caused an explosion) it said to begin taking an 8  ounce glass every 10 minutes.  And there were words on there about the "possibility of an urge to go to the bathroom possibly occurring in about an hour."

About 8 glasses into the one gallon event, and after 40 minutes elapsing the first urge hit.  It required rapid movement to the launch pad.  Since I am on oxygen, trying to quickly take my appointed place for most of the next few hours required trying to pull the hose quickly to prevent whiplash on the way to my appointment and it was a challenge.  With a couple of chairs and two throw rugs wrapped in my oxygen hose, I barely made launch time.

After hitting low earth orbit, it was time for a number of repetitions of the 8 ounces every 10 minutes.  This becomes a challenge, trying to get the contents down before the previous glasses require their hasty exit.   If all of the launches could have been combined, I would be well on my way to Mars.  I also now have more respect for how big a gallon is.

Two hours later would have been the time for the colonoscopy when everything had been turned inside out, but that was not to be.

After a few shots of the booster rocket during the short night, it was 5 AM the time to prepare for the 2 hour + trip to the Minneapolis VA Hospital.

After packing up required items, extra clothing in case of an accident and 2-3 fire extinguishers in the event of an accidental rocket flare up en route, it was time for the trip.

Fifteen minutes into the trip I wondered why the hood looked so much shorter.  My wife said it might be caused by my sitting on 2-3 towels (again, you can't be too careful after the rocket propellant).

We left early to avoid the traffic into the Twin Cities.  Of course we got there early.  This resulted in my getting into the procedures room an hour later than the appointment.  Something about the yin and the yang canceling each other.

We first checked in at the department after which we went to the room to change into the hospital attire and have the IV devices installed. 

When I was finally taken into the procedure room, there was quite a gathering.  Apparently it was instruction day.  They gave me a modesty blanket and said to pull my pajama bottoms down.  I said that wouldn't be necessary.  I stopped holding up the bottoms that were about 6" too large and they were on the floor.

After crawling onto the bed while holding: the modesty blanket, pajama bottoms with my feet, oxygen hose, robe and a few other items we were ready to begin.

Throughout the procedure, there was an exchange of humor.  I said the best summation of the procedure was the Lou Rawls skit on UTube.  The head surgeon then actually sang a few lines of the song right on key.

I asked the group if they had ever considered opening a restaurant, Tooters.

During the procedure, they kept saying I might feel a little discomfort due to the room air they force into the colon to allow the device to move around.  And they said to release any excess air that felt like it needed releasing.  I am surprised I didn't blow the entire device out once or twice.  My ear lobes expanded to touch my neck because of the air pressure developed.  I kept my mouth shut for long periods to keep the air pressure up.

I looked around once and there were 3 doctors and 4-5 nurses (there may have also been some from the waiting room in attendance because the room was quite crowded) because of the training.

Finally the procedure was done and I was told to release any gas.   After I had 3-4 long releases, they returned the bed to its original position in the room.

I was then released to go back to the changing room.  3 of the nurses accompanied me to that room.  I think it was to ensure that I had actually left.

We then had the two hour drive back to Sartell.  Both of us were extremely hungry but we waited until we got home.   The fear of the rocket propellant was still at the forefront of my brain (and my wife was worried about collateral damage).

While I made fun of the procedure, the people at the Minneapolis Veterans' Hospital did a fine job.  They were all friendly and very professional.