Clean as a Whistle

Okay, so I had my first colonoscopy today. It was as dignified as any such procedure can be. Modern anesthesia is a wonderful thing. And the results were "no abnormalities; see you in ten years." Whew!

My anticipation of the event was far worse than the event itself. Actually, my anticipation was of the preparation for the event. I don't like wierd-tasting things, and while I have a sweet tooth for good dark chocolate and sweet breads, I don't like sweet drinks. I drink maybe one soda a month, if that - usually a Coke when a headache has made me sick to my stomach.

The instruction sheet the doctor's office sent said I could only have clear liquids the day before the procedure, so I picked up a bottle of white grape juice, a bottle of apple juice, and a twelve-pack of ginger ale. When I got home from the store, I tasted the apple juice and the white grape juice and made a face after tasting each. Too sweet. I took a couple of cans of ginger ale with me to the office, figuring that would fill me up enough that I'd be okay without solid food and wouldn't get too bad a headache. Then the instructions for the Phospho-Soda said to mix it with eight ounces of ginger ale or water. I chose ginger ale.

Let me tell you that sixteen hours after sipping my last gingerphospho cocktail, I can still taste it. I think I don't want to look another ginger ale in the face until ten years from now, when I have to do this prep again.

If you've never had the procedure and are over 50: Go. Do. No big deal, despite my whining. I'm just a wimp.

You go on a clear liquid diet for 24 hours. You drink a solution that really isn't terrible. You poop a lot. Your ass hurts a little. You sleep through the whole procedure. And you get reassured that you're free of any threat of colorectal cancer.

Frank, who kindly provided me transportation to and from the appointment, said when he had his done several years ago, the doctor found a number of polyps and removed them during the procedure. He has to be retested in five years, rather than ten.

Colorectal cancer is slow-growing, so early detection is key to survival.

And don't smoke. I don't think anybody who reads this blog smokes, but if you do, quit. Don't be stupid.

(I've mentioned that Steve got married ten weeks after I moved out. The woman he had been courting behind my back, who became his wife, had colorectal cancer. She was and still is a chain smoker. Stupid is as stupid does.)