The Colonoscopy Fame.
I did consider the title “Colonoscopy Queen” but I feel like I still need to get a few scopes under my belt until I acquire that title.
I take pride in the fact that I’ve lost my c-card. I like to think that because I’ve already lost my card a have an air of wonder among my friends. Upon entering a crowded room they will whisper to each other, “She’s done it”, and I’ll toss my head back and pose and say “Damn straight”.
My colonoscopy has also lead to some pretty great conversations. For some reason I feel like I’ve been slotted in the geriatric time slot when I’ve gone in for my procedures. I sit with old men and women in the waiting room and we all know what’s in store. Clearly being the youngest one there by a handful of decades, I feel like the chosen one, the special one. My visual age gap usually invokes sweet grandmothers to say thing like, “But you look to pretty to be having a colonoscopy” – which I know is a lie because it looks like I’ve been hit by a bus – and old men trying to set me up with their grandchildren. “Hey Bobby, once the drugs wear off, you show me a photo of that boy of yours.” But seriously – what a great love story. Colonoscopies bring people together. Soon the once quiet waiting room is filled with great small talk and light laughter and my confidence busting through the roof. Ahh, memories.
The fear of a colonoscopy never registered in me. From the waiting room small talk, I know that some people lose their shit about it (the puns truly never stop). But it has never phased me. For my first rodeo I took comfort in the fact that I would be under the sweet seduction of an anesthetic. To my surprise, and my doctors, it was not as seductive as I thought and I 100% woke up. Awkward. Yes. Uncomfortable? Slightly. Freaky? You got it. Painful? No. And that is all I cared about. This lack of pain is what kept me steady for the second time round.
What no one seems to tell you is that the real work is in the prep. Before a colonoscopy you go to your local pharmacy and hand them the prescription for your colonoscopy ‘prep kit’. I’m used to the pharmacist handing back a little white paper bag with your pills in it, you shove it in your purse, and you can go back to your day. This prep kit wants to be known. On the not so privet counter the pharmacist places A JUG, yes a jug, that is filled with a chalky substance laxative. Of course only those who have also received this jug would know what it’s for, but at the time it is a bit mortifying. It’s kind of like buying tampons with your dad. You then lug juggy home and prepare yourself for the battle ahead. You are instructed to drink this gallon of laxative mixed with water in a certain amount of time. The specifics of the whole event are a bit blurry, as I have made a large conscious effort to black them out. Drinking this substance may have been the hardest thing I have ever had to ingest. It makes that 3rd shot of tequila look like child’s play. It was so bad my mom hovered over me as I sat on the edge of my bathtub and coached me.
“you got this, this all you”
“I, I can’t take it anymore”
“Just one more shot, one more, you got this”
“Pass the shot”
“Here we go!”
I would toss the shot back and she would give me an equal size shot glass with water. You are not allowed any coloured liquids, aka anything with sugar in it to disguise the toxicity you are trying to ingest. Had we played loud music it may have been an accurate reenactment of pre drink gone horribly wrong. But with coach by my side I got it done. It was smooth sailing from there. You let the magic do it’s power, get a parent or love one to drive you to the hospital while looking forward to some great small talk. You go under, wake up and it’s done. Bing bang boom. So when your day comes, dear friend, remember the task in the pregame, not the game. May the odds ever in your favour.
Stay Gutsy,
<3 Tegan.
