Nightmare Before Christmas
When we talk about boomers with “active lifestyles,” we’re not sure that’s supposed to include what Laurey Boyd recently did to stay healthy. In fact, we’re sure it’s not, because she just suffered through The Nightmare Procedure Before Christmas.
How did I usher in the holiday season this year? Why, with a colonoscopy, of course! Isn’t that what every good little girl wants for Christmas? Actually, it’s my own fault. I had given my primary physician the go-ahead to refer me on to the next specialist to diagnose an intense pain under my ribs. It was interfering with my tennis game and that just wouldn’t do. “Justice will be served,” I told him. “I need to get to the bottom of this.” I just didn’t know he’d take me so literally.
The next doctor on my path to enlightenment was a gastroenterologist. I wasn’t really sure what he did but it didn’t sound fun. Upon googling the subject, I found everything I ever wanted to know but was afraid to ask.
The thing is, my pain did not originate from any of the maladies this guy was trained to deal with. But I felt pressured because I had never submitted to some of the routine health screenings my primary doctor considered prudent. And, I was driven by the threat of that pain recurring, and me not being further along in the bureaucratic hoops I had to jump through to finally get a correct diagnosis. I could only rely on codeine for so long. As a loyal viewer of that popular TV show, was there a Dr. House in the house?
So I approached my visit to the gastroenterologist with much inner conflict and trepidation. What am I doing, I wondered. If I were into— excuse the pun— “probings” of that kind, I’d move to New Mexico and try to hook up with some space aliens. But as my mental rantings grew more fierce and wild, I realized that I would submit. A still, small voice told me that this is science and I shouldn’t argue with Mother Nature.
When I met with the youngish doctor, he seemed perplexed why I was there. My problem appeared to be musculo-skeletal. Not his field. But, why had I been sent to him? “I know,” he said three times in an AHA tone as though figuring out a trick question, “because you’re 51 and a year past due for a colonoscopy!” Ta da!
What the heck! I had been inches from a clean getaway.
Now, the ball was in my court. On the one hand, that business about being 51 sounded like ageism. No one else looked at me, I’m sure, and saw a blinking “maintenance required” light. On the other hand, I had come this far and the little voice said, Don’t quit.
I reluctantly agreed to the process and paid my $400 copay to endure humiliations galore. These included giving myself diarrhea on purpose! I had to ingest enough Gatorade to want to throw up. I had to be clean as a whistle for the procedure. I mean, who with any pride wouldn’t want to be? I just hadn’t fully comprehended what that would entail, so to speak.
Without going further into the territory of TMI, suffice it to say that I survived. The only glitch was one I could have foreseen but, maybe mercifully, did not. I have very small collapsible veins. I have to ask for the infant-sized needle whenever I have blood drawn. Even then it can take four times longer than the average patient, because the needle keeps hitting vein walls. I can’t watch. It makes me faint. I crane my neck to look the other way.
But not this day. The prep nurse informed me that a small needle would not deliver enough of the anesthesia to keep me knocked out cold. She went from one hand to the other in what I hoped wasn’t a futile probing for the motherlode. My husband held whatever hand she wasn’t sticking at the time and tried to distract me. He used his “desperate smile,” the one he uses for relatives and awkward social situations. I cried.
After that, I don’t remember. No repressed memories of operating room banter have surfaced from my subconscious. I didn’t even walk funny leaving the hospital. The staff informed me they had found nothing, which I could have guessed. The doctor says I’m good for another ten years before I have to undergo this again. Would I recommend it? Talk to me in ten years.
Category: Baby Boomers, Health & Wellness, Laurey Boyd
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Welcome to middle middle age (not early middle age or late middle age, mind you!) You’ve just described the procedure I was pushed into 3 years ago…down to the poking of arms with the needle. My nurse, however, gave up after several pokes in both arms and brought in a fellow, don’t know who, who in one jab made it into my recalcitrant veins. I knew nothing else until I awoke looking forward to a nice greasy breakfast at a nearby joint and a hot cup of coffee…
Carolyn
(Now in late middle middle age…I’ll never admit to late middle or beyond…)
@Carolyn Kostelecky, Bravo, Carolyn
Well written. Thanks for alerting me to your new article. Lots of nice puns.
You never mentioned whether you “got to the bottom” of the original problem. I suspect the gastroenterologist was right. New procedures for colon examination are rapidly emerging. You probably will not have to undergo that particular procedure again, and, you may even have been able to avoid it this time by shopping around a bit. Of course, insurance may be slower to accept new procedures or may limit the doctors available to you who might use new procedures. Bob Jarvis, 12/9/08, 09:00 CST
Above all, the news about “finding nothing” as a result of the procedure is certainly good news. The agony of the many needle sticks is of course the bad news.
Now the really good news is your ability to relate this story to your kids and grandkids, with the benefit of “first hand experience”. Do it verbally. No one can ever take that away from you. Look at it this way, it’s kind of a right of passage to old age……………you get this experience every 10 years wether you need it or not.
Were you not given the option of a virtual colonoscopy? I have read that these are quite effective and much less invasive. You still have to endure the clean out process however!
Well, Bob, I didn’t get to the bottom of it. We stopped playing tennis due to DST and colder weather and the pain went away. I expect it back when the tennis playing resumes, oh, around April or so.
Whether I need it or not. . . I could get out of it. We’ll see.
Mr. Go To, I was not given the option but it definitely sounds better.
Sufferings in my baby sister! Just like me. No trouble with the needle, just the night before. I wound up doing jumping jacks just to get it over with and go to bed. Day of the procedure was just — slept through it.
Brother Mike, I am finding out how many people out there go through this. How long has this been going on? – Laurey
Ahhhh…the memories this brings back. But with colon cancer in my family, I “get” to do this again in 5 years!! Bravo, Laurie, for being brave enough to go all the way with this one! It is not for sissies!
Thanks, Sue. I am feeling rather macho. – Laurey
Hi Laurey!
That was so funny! You are my third or fourth friend in the last month that has gone through this. How weird.
I’m thinking of signing up just so I won’t feel left out.
Great “minds” think alike. Here’s some advice: RUN ! – Laurey
Laurey,
Thanks for making me laugh. I accompanied Phillip recently for his first such experience. I’m not yet 51, so still waiting . . . .
Hey Jan, Apparently this is a rite of passage, so to speak. – Laurey
Having “done” breast cancer, I trotted right along (subject really lends itself to bad puns, doesn’t it?) when my family practitioner said I needed to do this. By that time, I was an old pro at needle sticks. The huge surprise at the end was color glossy photographs of the inside of my colon -with circles and arrows (really!) for the diverticuli found. I resisted posting them to my blog, but did email to a few friends and family
Hey Lisa, Yes, this subject does lend itself to lots of tawdry puns. That’s part of the fun. Color glossies, huh? Let’s hope they don’t fall into the wrong hands. – Laurey
If it makes you feel any better, I get to have them every 5 years due to a strong family history of colon cancer on my mother’s side. It took my mother within 6 weeks of diagnosis at age 74. She had never had a colonoscopy before that. Her mother also had colon cancer back in the 60′s I think, but survived for another 20+ years cancer free.
A friend of mine suggested that you start the clear liquid diet the day before the “prep” so there is not that much to clean out when drinking that awful stuff. I’ll be trying it next year for colonoscopy #3. I have told many same-aged friends that the prep is the worst part of the prob-cedure.
Hey Collett, About the prep being the worst = definitely. – Laurey
This is a great aticle. Becuse of our insurance changing and hubby just turning 50 on Dec. 25, he will have it done New Years eve. Guess he’ll be bringing in the new year with a clean slate…..
Terri
Bottoms up Terri ! – Laurey