I’m not sure why, but it seems like this is rectum month or me. Let me explain. In the past week and a half, I have had three doctor’s appointments. The first was with my PCP, just a routine visit, but I needed blood work. That was the tip of the iceberg. He told me that I was overdue for another colonoscopy. That’s a word that makes a person jump for joy.
I called and made and made an appointment for the scope for the following Wednesday, today actually. I picked up the dreaded prep for the test on Thursday after my urology appointment. I had been having frequent bouts of urinary tract infections. That was the reason for my first visit to the urology specialists. On the initial visit, I was told I had BPH, an enlargement of the prostate gland which narrows the urethra and doesn’t allow the urine to flow, but it backs up and stagnates in the bladder.
I was put on medications, which has helped. This was a follow-up appointment. I was seeing a young brunette Physician’s Assistant. After the interview and exam, she gave the dreaded instruction, “Drop the pants and bend over the table.” I wasn’t tremendously embarrassed. The first visit I had a lovely blonde PA do the same thing. Also I knew that I was coming. I’ve been a registered nurse for over 35 years. Everything was status quo and I will need an appointment in one year.
Sidebar: While I was there, the nurse taking my vital signs and asking questions and I were talking. I showed her my book, “Tommy Two Shoes” and told her it was a mystery. It was coincidental that Thursday was her mom’s birthday and that her mom loved mysteries. She bought it saying, “I always buy my mom a mystery book and haven’t bought one yet.” She bought a copy from me.
Now, for the real fun; I started the prep yesterday with three laxative pills, little bigger than a grain of mustard seed. Later, I had to drink a large jug of Go-lytely laxative. Adding 850 cc’s of warm tap water and the lemon flavoring to make it more palatable, I stored it in the refrigerator to chill it and not think that I’m drinking water from the Dead Sea. The lemon doesn’t mask the taste well enough to hide the salty flavor. I had to drink 8 ounces every 15 minutes until it was gone. I managed to gulp all but the last glass, but I couldn’t force myself to swallow the last glass. There was no way. I would have hurled.
By the time I was half way through, the desired results started to occur. Each time, it was a race to the commode for an explosive emptying of the bowels. Several times it was close, but no accidents. This lasted all evening and into the early part of the night.
I had a difficult time sleeping. I had a headache and was nauseated from the prep and the pain in my head. I couldn’t find a comfortable place or position to fall asleep. I was limited to Tylenol. I wasn’t able to take aspirin for the test.
My daughter, Anna, went with me to drive me home. It’s over for now. Only one polyp found and removed. My gastroenterologist said, “Make an appointment for next year.”
What a wonderful thought. Something I’ll hate to see come more than my birthday.