The Last Supper

On Tuesday afternoon, I am getting a colonoscopy. I am a total wreck about it, too, but it's not the procedure that is worrying me. It's the prep.

When I got the instructions a few weeks ago, I read through the list. No Advil for a week before the procedure. Nothing but clear liquids the day before. Nothing at all for 3 hours before the procedure, not even water, not even if my lips are cracked and my throat is parched and I am gagging and dying and beseeching Jeff for just one tiny sip.

Then there's the industrial strength laxative binge. I've had visions of spending 18 hours pooping my guts out before, but somehow that nightmare has always taken place in a third-world country. Is doing it in the privacy of my own home with plenty of toilet paper and magazines supposed to be an upgrade?

When I got the instructions, the first thing I did was go online to research the laxatives I had to take. I was thrilled when I saw that I won't have to choke down a gallon of chalky liquid. But when I read that the tablets produce "a large amount of watery diarrhea," my enthusiasm waned a touch. When I read about a woman who took the pills and then proceeded to vomit and pass out and hit her head so hard she had to get stitches, which made her miss her colonoscopy, even after she pooped her guts out all night long, I closed the web browser.

But then I realized that I have to drink 80 ounces of clear liquids with the pills in the span of an hour. My mind started racing. Didn't a woman die from drinking too much water too fast last year? Didn't some other girl or some pledge in a fraternity hazing incident die the same way? I went back online. I learned that the amount of water my doctor told me to drink is double what the laxative's manufacturer recommends. DOUBLE. I also found lots of articles about water poisoning, but I couldn't find any that would tell me how much was too much.

So I called my doctor. Her nurse reassured me that I was, in fact, meant to drink exactly the amount in the instructions. "It's very important," she told me in a calm voice. "Otherwise you could become dehydrated. Because of the sodium blah-mide (blah-xide? blah-phide?) your body won't be absorbing it all anyway." I tried to believe her, but I couldn't. Then I realized I could just drink Sprite instead of water, and I've never heard of anyone dying from Sprite poisoning. (Getting fat is another thing.) I considered staking out a 7-11 to see just how much soda fits in those Super Big Gulps these days, but I couldn't find one in San Francisco. I'm taking this one on faith.

Before long, I started worrying that I would forget to cut out the Advil, so I set alarms on my computer every day for a week to remind me not to take any. The thought of going without didn't worry me much, truthfully, but that was before I got a raging headache on Thursday and slammed my right thumb in a doorjamb Friday night so hard the nail turned black and blue. Suddenly, I can sympathize with heroin addicts because I. Really. Fucking. Want. Some. Advil. NOW!

Yesterday I wrote up a grocery list of all the things I can eat when the fast starts tomorrow. The list was short because it is limited to clear liquids: water, apple juice, Gatorade, Jello, and broth. Since when is broth a food? Last time I checked it was an ingredient, like flour or baking powder, that required other ingredients in order to be edible. I haven't eaten Jello since elementary school, when I used to lick the raw, sugary granules off my moistened fingers during swim meets. Now I have 8 jars of jiggling green goo in the fridge. Mmmm. Breakfast. Lunch. And dinner!

The other thing on my list was toilet paper. (As I type this, I just realized something: I NEVER BOUGHT THE TOILET PAPER.) I bought two things of wet wipes but I didn't replenish my TP stock so I guess I'll go buy 12 rolls later today. Or should I make it 24? How much wiping is going to be involved? I wish someone could tell me.

As of last night I've started worrying about the actual procedure. I tried to find out the statistical likelihood that my doctor will accidentally perforate my squeaky clean colon but I couldn't find those numbers online. Probably better not to know.

I still have one question, though. Is white wine a clear liquid?

Comments

[Jennifer Jeffrey]

Oh, Catherine. This doesn't sound like fun at all. Good for you for having the procedure - very smart - but the fast + laxatives is a definite downer.

Given all the rest, I vote that yes, white wine is definitely a clear liquid.

[alison]

good luck with the procedure catherine....my man just had one - it wasn't as bad as he had thought it would be!!

[jen maiser]

I'm a moron because I wasn't thinking 80 oz of H20 wasn't that bad ... until I just looked at my Nalgene to compare. Wow.

[Rebecca]

Good for you!

I have to say that the whole thing is minor. When I had my colonoscopy (age 50) a large tumor was found and I was diagnosed with Stage III colon cancer. I had surgery two weeks later and finished 6 months of chemo in July. Right now I feel GREAT which means my spirits are up, my life is normal, I'm running, and I have a clear idea of what is important in life and what's not. Spending one evening on the toilet is not important. (You think you get cleared out for a colonoscopy? You get super cleaned out in preparation of surgery.)

I don't want to scare you and I don't mean to scare you, I just want to let you know that the whole colonoscopy prep experience lasts for a short period of time and isn't really that bad. You get through it. Be brave, follow all instructions, and make sure all your friends get their colonoscopys when they turn 50 or when there are extenuating circumstances. Make sure all your friends get their mammograms too, and male friends get PSAs.

Thank you for writing about your upcoming colonoscopy and for helping to make it more of an everyday word.

You go girl!

Rebecca

PS: I am a huge fan of your blog.

[Sean]

Ooh, been there. Only I had to gulp down an industrial-sized bottle of a clear liquid called Nulitely (which of course inspired me for the best drag name ever, Holly Nulitely) followed by the aforementioned copious pooping.

Here's the good news: It's no big deal, and you'll wake up feeling, well, kinda refreshed. Good luck!

[Tiffany]

I have four words for you: find a happy place.

Good luck and I'll have my fingers crossed for you and your colon. I think you should have an Advil salad when you get out.

[Tea]

Um, I had to do the gallon of chalky liquid for another procedure and, well, let's just say that you don't want to go there either.

Good luck--hang in there!

[ann]

my mom had it done and she's fine. she was very tired afterwards i think she slept the rest of the day, make sure someone drives there & back home.

I think she doesn't need to do another one for 10 yrs and you get a picture of your colon afterwards (ask if u don't get one)!!

[Carolyn T]

You had my LOL for 2 minutes, reading your post. By this time you've probably already had it done and know that it was pretty easy. It's the prep, you're right, that's the worst part. I didn't drink all the fluid. I thought I was going to get sick (vomit) from too much fluid, so I quit. They said no big deal. Will be anxious to read your next posting about it.

[Zoomie]

I know you're suffering and not too happy but I just have to tell you that I laughed out loud reading your post and read it to My Beloved as well and had him chuckling, too. Best of luck with the procedure and keep smiling!

[Zoomie]

I know you're suffering and not too happy but I just have to tell you that I laughed out loud reading your post and read it to My Beloved as well and had him chuckling, too. Best of luck with the procedure and keep smiling!

[Zoomie]

I know you're suffering and not too happy but I just have to tell you that I laughed out loud reading your post and read it to My Beloved as well and had him chuckling, too. Best of luck with the procedure and keep smiling!

[sam]

Rebecca's noble reply has made me feel pathetic and ashamed and made me cry. How does one pull themselves together when they feel so lethargic and down. I can only hope January will pull me out of my rut enough to make an appointment.