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My First Colonoscopy

A running diary of what to expect.

As a member of a family with a history of colon cancer my first colonoscopy was pushed up ten years. Here is the account of my first experience. Warning: if you are offended by potty humor you should probably stop reading.

Thursday, November 11

I head into the pharmacy to get my supply of laxatives and Plenvu. This is the first step toward the procedure, aside from scheduling the date. There is a certain degree of embarrassment when asking for the medication but I decide to just embrace it and approach the counter with confidence. I’m taking care of my health right, I shouldn’t have to be embarrassed by that.

The pharmacist hands me the boxes while seeming to suppress laughter. “Do you know how to use these?” My confidence is a bit shaken.

I reply with a nod, and he recommends drinking the Plenvu with cold water because the taste can be a bit unpleasant. I would soon find out how much he was underselling its effect. He wishes me luck and smiles as I leave. I can’t tell if it is a smile of compassion or that of a mischievous child waiting to watch his firework blow up the neighbors mailbox.

Entering the drugstore, I felt reasonably assured, but now, as I leave, I sense that I have crossed a turning point. There is no going back. This box of powdered diarrhea is my Rubicon, and soon, I will feel the full force of its power. More specifically literally feel it exit my body with the force of a raging river.

Sunday, November 14

The day before my colonoscopy. I am feeling relaxed and at ease. Honestly, I haven’t given it much thought aside from trying to eat a little bit lighter during the day and get some exercise in.

I’ve managed to keep my diet in check for the most part and avoid anything like fruit or fatty foods that will leave a residue in my intestines and might affect the procedure. If I am going to go through the trouble of doing this I may as well do it well.

Dinner time, and my wife has made beef stroganoff. Well, this should be interesting.

I’ve been taking laxatives all day and am now eating beef stroganoff. Not a great combination. I managed ten bites before the meal hits one of those arrows on the Mario kart track and accelerates full speed towards the exit. I hurry off to the bathroom, and my dinner is over. I didn’t know it at the time, but this was an omen of what tomorrow would be like.

Monday, November 15

Typically I am a morning person. I don’t mind getting out of bed to train or take advantage of a quiet moment or two before the house gets busy with the events of people heading off to school.

Today I do not want to get out of bed. I have to start my first dose of Plenvu around 7 am to let it take effect and have enough time between it and the second dose. Waking up early to give yourself diarrhea for the day isn’t super exciting. Waking up to eat a hot pocket is the best comparison.

A bit of advice for anyone going through the same process: don’t bother brushing your teeth before drinking. First, nobody is going to talk to you today. There is no chance anyone will want to get remotely close to kissing you. You’re going to spend your time trapped in the bathroom, and there will be a door blocking you from the rest of the world. Also, what you are doing in the bathroom will mask even the worst odor you may have in your mouth.

The first sip of Plenvu was enough to wake me up. This stuff is nasty. It’s like drinking super concentrated mango pulp with the aftertaste of swallowing a handful of salt. The combined minty residue from my toothpaste does me no favors. As Michael Scott would say, “it has an oaky afterbirth.”

I measured out the amount into a Nalgene bottle to have the proper measurement and make it easy to track my progress. I quickly decide that drinking this is more mental than anything else and approach it like a training session. This is a test of mental toughness. Suck it up and get it done.

50ml at a time, the first dose goes down. I was able to chug about 125ml at once but then had to recover for quite a while before going on.

This all happens while fighting the urge to crap my pants. After the first 100ml, I made the mistake of letting out a small fart and immediately regretted that decision. I waddled out of the kitchen with my butt pinched so tight I could only step about six inches at a time.

Everything would have to be closely monitored down there the rest of the day. There would be no

By 6:30, I still have about 400 ml left.

6:37 — Chugged 125 ml and felt a bit dizzy. My mouth is sweating as well, like I need to vomit.

6:43 — Every rumble in my stomach makes me nervous and literally threatens to scare the crap out of me.

7:15 — The first round is done, and I go to sit on the toilet for the next thirty minutes.

7:25 — I’ve downloaded five new games onto my phone and started a two and half hour podcast. I’ll be done with the podcast and bored with the games by lunch.

7:40 — My kids are getting ready for school and walking past the bathroom door every minute. The youngest is knocking wanting me to help him pack his lunch and get dressed. I would think the cacophony of sounds emanating from my body would be enough to scare him away. I can only imagine the suppressed laughter as they walk past repeatedly.

9- I’ve spent an hour in the bathroom already, and it’s still relatively early. I feel like there is an angry alien in my intestines toying with me. I have about five hours until I throw more gas onto this raging fire.

10–12 — Even though I don’t have to actively do anything to prepare for a couple hours there is not a chance that I will step outside my house. For the rest of the day I am tethered to the bathroom.

12-I need to start the second dose. I don’t want to, but I know that I will need more time to drink it all than I did the first one. If I start early, I won’t be able to eat anything, but I am already planning on fasting all day. That part is not difficult or all that uncomfortable. I’d rather have a bit longer to drink my poison and let my stomach settle before going to see the doctor at 7.

12:15 — I prep the second dose and try a sip. The first one was mango-flavored, and this one is supposed to be fruit punch. There are so many chemicals and so much grit that the flavor should be the beach. If you have ever been knocked down my a wave and forced to eat sand you’ve had a sample of this. It’s a cross between salt and sand that makes me gag as soon as it hits the back of my throat.

2 pm — I feel a renewed sense of admiration and compassion for my wife, who has done this three times. I feel like our marriage of nearly twenty years has just gone to a new level. I love her.

2:15 pm — I text my sister. She is the best person to handle this conversation, and I don’t mind her laughing at my expense. “My butt is a fountain of sewage, and I can’t turn it off,” I tell her. She points out that we only had one bathroom until recently, and that would have made all of this much more fun for her.

2:45 — Whenever I get tired of squeezing my butt, I sit on the toilet, and a warm stream of waste flows out of me. There is nothing solid left in me, and it sounds like someone is pouring a pitcher of water into a pond.

3:30 — I am done with the second dose of Plenvu. The last 300ml I drank with the same intensity I usually reserve for the final mile of Murph. It nearly makes me vomit, but I force it down and then prepare for the worst.

3:32–4:15 — My legs are going numb from sitting on the toilet for so long, and I am sure I’ll have a red ring around my ass for the next week.

4:20 — I head to bed. I would love to read a book or enjoy Netflix, but the need to contract my sphincter keeps my mind occupied. I hope that if I relax my mind my body follow suite and I can nap. I also hope that I don’t crap the bed.

5:15 — Wake up with the intense need to use the toilet.

5:25 — I am sitting on the toilet and think I must be done. There is nothing left inside me. I have drained every ounce of fluid from my intestines and surely there can’t be any more. I haven’t drank anything in over an hour and a half and I am starting to feel drained.

5:26 — I sneeze. I was wrong. An uncontrollable flood rushes from my butt. I have seasonal allergies. A new sense of dread fills me.

6:15 — I head to the bathroom one final time before going to the doctor. I need to try and get as much out as possible before getting in the car. I am also afraid of the weapon that my anus has become. How can I expose and point this at a doctor?

6:45 — I head to the doctor with my wife.

7:15 — Waiting in the lobby, I wonder if I should try to go to the bathroom one more time. I know more will come out because the fountain of death that Plenvu created in my gut has shown no signs of drying up. My stomach is also not rumbling or feeling as queasy as before, so I decide to risk it and let it ride.

7:17 — I am called back and given a shirt and pants to wear. As I enter the room, I realize that I have a team of four female doctors administering the procedure. Awesome.

I lay down and get my iv put in. As I curl up on my left side, I hear one of the women behind me tell me she will tear open my pants and all I can do is say, “ok.” Normally hearing a woman tell you she is about to rip your pants off would evoke some sort of reaction, but I only feel a numb sense of dread. That is the last thing I hear before passing out.

7:50 — I wake up to the sensation of something being pulled out of my anus. Lovely. There seems to be a fair amount of liquid, but there is no way to see, and I am sure not going to reach back there to touch.

7:52 — I’m propped up and given a juice box. I have spent the day with the bathroom habits of a six year old and it is only appropriate to be treated like one now. I am thirsty from not having drunk anything for the last four hours, but I am also afraid of how my body will react. Will it welcome this juice and let it take off its coat and stay awhile, or will it merely pass through my gut and end up on the table in about 3 seconds like everything else today? I squeeze my cheeks and drink and am relieved when nothing terrible happens. This must be what toddlers feel like when they finally learn to control their bowel movements for the first time.

8 — I am helped off the table and make my way to change, forgetting that my pants now have a giant tear in the back. The nurse hands me a towelette and lets me know that I can use it to wipe my ass. Thank you, I thought it was for my face like a passenger in first class.

8:05 — Dressed and trying to regather my dignity along with my watch and phone, I head out to meet with the doctor. She hands me the results and lets me know that everything looked good and for what it is worth, I came well prepared. The write-up includes photos of my intestines which amazes me. I can’t get pictures of my family developed the same day, but I can get a picture of the inside of my anus in less than twenty minutes.

8:15 — I head out to meet my wife and have her drive us home. I’m relieved to have the procedure done and happy not to repeat it for another few years.

All kidding aside, I am happy to have this done. My family has a history of cancer, and my dad died of colon cancer when he was only 61.

For all the attention given to breast cancer in October, nothing is ever said about colorectal cancer or the need to get checked out. The National Cancer Institute estimates nearly 150,000 new cases in 2021, with over 50,000 cases being fatal. When diagnosed early, the vast majority of these cases are treatable. A colonoscopy is also an ideal time to search for prostate cancer which is the most common among men.

One day of discomfort can go a long way to promoting long-term health for men, especially as they age.

You just read another post from In Fitness And In Health: a health and fitness community dedicated to sharing knowledge, lessons, and suggestions to living happier, healthier lives.

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