There are two charming young baristas at the cafe at work who make me laugh every time I see them, and when I confided to them that I'd be off for my very first colonoscopy last week, they demanded that I live blog the whole thing. I barred myself from my phone, however, fearful that I'd send work-emails in my propofol haze, so they'll have to make do with my rear-view synopsis.
My clever plan to use Tinder to find someone to drive me didn't pan out, so I rescheduled it for last week when my older son W. was home on spring break from college. I felt bad because check-in was scheduled for 6:15 am, which qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment to a college kid who's trying to soak up all the fun he can on his week home, but at least I knew we'd get it over with early and could enjoy the mother of all naps afterward.
He hasn't been staying with me, so I messaged him the evening before to remind him that he needed to be here by 5:30 am. Then I messaged the same thing to his girlfriend E., a.k.a. the Bonus Daughter, as an extra layer of safety, and invited her to join us if she was so inclined, because what could possibly be more romantic than taking your beau's Mom to get her ass scoped? Then I continued the ghastly process of preparation, which included drinking a bunch of stuff so aggressively "pleasantly flavored" that it felt like licking the face of Tammy Faye Bakker in her prime, and spending a lot of quality time on the porcelain throne. I will fully admit that half of me was scared he wouldn't wake up in time and I'd have to cancel, and the other half of me was hoping he wouldn't wake up in time and I wouldn't have to go.
My alarm went off at 5:00 am and I had a message moments afterward from W. telling me he was on his way, so I hopped in the shower. The instructions from the doctor's office said to wear something loose and easy (insert self-deprecating crack about my romantic past here) so I picked a long pastel blue flowy hippie dress and matching cardigan. I heard the front door open and when I came out of my room, the Bonus Daughter was in the hall about to knock on my door. She gasped at the sight of me and said "Why do you look like you're dressed for your own funeral?!"
They were both sleepy so we stopped at the QT for coffee and a Red Bull for them, a tank of gas and terrible thirsty dry-mouth for me. Bonus Daughter took the passenger seat and my phone and announced she was going to queue up some songs to "pump me up" for the procedure, but instead started playing a chapter of Moby Dick. When I protested, she selected another version, this time in German. God, I love that kid.
I'd never experienced anything like the surgery center before -- rows of little mini-rooms with rolling hospital beds and those screechy privacy curtains that are like a short-sheeted bed and never close all the way. There were four or five other patients/victims/customers there with me, each of our beds labeled with our doctor's name and the time we were scheduled. You could hear every conversation along the row. The lady across from me had small veins. The fella next to her was on his third colonoscopy. Everybody was strategizing about where they'd go to eat afterward, since part of the prep includes fasting for a full day. E. was quizzing me about what I'd want to eat and W. vetoed everything I came up with, insisting that I couldn't eat with my "new colon." He wanted to know if it came from a donor, or if they made it out of adamantium.
The nurses were great, as nurses always are, laughing with us while sticking really sharp things into my veins. W. asked if the clear liquid in the IV bag was Everclear. E. started planning to steal the bedazzled flip flops from the lady across the way. A super-awkward older male anesthesiologist loomed in the middle of the hallway waiting his turn to come in and do his spiel to each of the patients, and by the time he got to me, I'd heard his canned speech three times already. He introduced himself and asked if the kids were both mine, so I of course said yes. I said they were on spring break, and he said they'd never had spring break when he went to school, which caused the kids to give him a blank look I had to bite my lip not to laugh at. He had a truly unfortunate blond toupee that looked like sun-faded easter grass.
"So, you turned 50 so you're here for your first one?" he asked, looking at my chart, and I got mad all over again, insisting that I am not yet 50. "49, then?" he asked, and I hissed "48." W. said "She doesn't look a day over 32," and I blew him a kiss. Then he launched into his soliloquy, asked if I had any questions, and headed off to his next performance.
"Oh my GOD," Bonus Daughter whispered as soon as he was gone. "That was the most sexual tension I've EVER felt in one room." Have I mentioned how much I love her?
My doctor was super late and we all started getting fussy to the point where I considered doing that thing you always see on TV where the patient tears the IV out and escapes, barefoot and bare ass flashing. The nurses were sweet and apologetic and I did that stereotypical Ninth Child thing of feeling worse for them than I did for me because it was so obviously not their fault, but they were so accustomed to people being horrid to them about issues not within their control.
My doctor finally showed up and I was rolled down to the OR. She and her team were warmer and more inviting than a pack of Hare Krishnas love-bombing teenagers at a summer festival, and all my fussiness melted away. The great big video screen was right next to the bed so I asked if we could watch Captain Marvel, then they put me to sleep.
I woke up back in my original alcove and while I had plans to fake-cry and ask for the Bonus Daughter, since that's what sweet W. did when he had his wisdom teeth out, I forgot and started patting the bed and calling Bo. The doctor gave the kids instructions on my aftercare, shooed them out so I could put my burial dress back on, and we headed out. As we walked through the lobby, Bonus Daughter muttered "they all know what you just did."
W. drove us home with a stop at the Sonic drive-through, the Bonus Daughter ate almost all my tots, and then W. tucked me into bed and got Nurse Bo snuggled in place next to me. And old editor chum asked if I'd be posting the video (since clearly I have zero qualms about sharing the most intimate details of my life) but they only gave me hard copy photos, which I will be happy to share for $7 bucks a pop. And maybe use as my new online-dating profile picture.
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| Rear View Mirror, available at Advance Auto Parts. |
My clever plan to use Tinder to find someone to drive me didn't pan out, so I rescheduled it for last week when my older son W. was home on spring break from college. I felt bad because check-in was scheduled for 6:15 am, which qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment to a college kid who's trying to soak up all the fun he can on his week home, but at least I knew we'd get it over with early and could enjoy the mother of all naps afterward.
He hasn't been staying with me, so I messaged him the evening before to remind him that he needed to be here by 5:30 am. Then I messaged the same thing to his girlfriend E., a.k.a. the Bonus Daughter, as an extra layer of safety, and invited her to join us if she was so inclined, because what could possibly be more romantic than taking your beau's Mom to get her ass scoped? Then I continued the ghastly process of preparation, which included drinking a bunch of stuff so aggressively "pleasantly flavored" that it felt like licking the face of Tammy Faye Bakker in her prime, and spending a lot of quality time on the porcelain throne. I will fully admit that half of me was scared he wouldn't wake up in time and I'd have to cancel, and the other half of me was hoping he wouldn't wake up in time and I wouldn't have to go.
My alarm went off at 5:00 am and I had a message moments afterward from W. telling me he was on his way, so I hopped in the shower. The instructions from the doctor's office said to wear something loose and easy (insert self-deprecating crack about my romantic past here) so I picked a long pastel blue flowy hippie dress and matching cardigan. I heard the front door open and when I came out of my room, the Bonus Daughter was in the hall about to knock on my door. She gasped at the sight of me and said "Why do you look like you're dressed for your own funeral?!"
They were both sleepy so we stopped at the QT for coffee and a Red Bull for them, a tank of gas and terrible thirsty dry-mouth for me. Bonus Daughter took the passenger seat and my phone and announced she was going to queue up some songs to "pump me up" for the procedure, but instead started playing a chapter of Moby Dick. When I protested, she selected another version, this time in German. God, I love that kid.
I'd never experienced anything like the surgery center before -- rows of little mini-rooms with rolling hospital beds and those screechy privacy curtains that are like a short-sheeted bed and never close all the way. There were four or five other patients/victims/customers there with me, each of our beds labeled with our doctor's name and the time we were scheduled. You could hear every conversation along the row. The lady across from me had small veins. The fella next to her was on his third colonoscopy. Everybody was strategizing about where they'd go to eat afterward, since part of the prep includes fasting for a full day. E. was quizzing me about what I'd want to eat and W. vetoed everything I came up with, insisting that I couldn't eat with my "new colon." He wanted to know if it came from a donor, or if they made it out of adamantium.
The nurses were great, as nurses always are, laughing with us while sticking really sharp things into my veins. W. asked if the clear liquid in the IV bag was Everclear. E. started planning to steal the bedazzled flip flops from the lady across the way. A super-awkward older male anesthesiologist loomed in the middle of the hallway waiting his turn to come in and do his spiel to each of the patients, and by the time he got to me, I'd heard his canned speech three times already. He introduced himself and asked if the kids were both mine, so I of course said yes. I said they were on spring break, and he said they'd never had spring break when he went to school, which caused the kids to give him a blank look I had to bite my lip not to laugh at. He had a truly unfortunate blond toupee that looked like sun-faded easter grass.
"So, you turned 50 so you're here for your first one?" he asked, looking at my chart, and I got mad all over again, insisting that I am not yet 50. "49, then?" he asked, and I hissed "48." W. said "She doesn't look a day over 32," and I blew him a kiss. Then he launched into his soliloquy, asked if I had any questions, and headed off to his next performance.
"Oh my GOD," Bonus Daughter whispered as soon as he was gone. "That was the most sexual tension I've EVER felt in one room." Have I mentioned how much I love her?
My doctor was super late and we all started getting fussy to the point where I considered doing that thing you always see on TV where the patient tears the IV out and escapes, barefoot and bare ass flashing. The nurses were sweet and apologetic and I did that stereotypical Ninth Child thing of feeling worse for them than I did for me because it was so obviously not their fault, but they were so accustomed to people being horrid to them about issues not within their control.
My doctor finally showed up and I was rolled down to the OR. She and her team were warmer and more inviting than a pack of Hare Krishnas love-bombing teenagers at a summer festival, and all my fussiness melted away. The great big video screen was right next to the bed so I asked if we could watch Captain Marvel, then they put me to sleep.
I woke up back in my original alcove and while I had plans to fake-cry and ask for the Bonus Daughter, since that's what sweet W. did when he had his wisdom teeth out, I forgot and started patting the bed and calling Bo. The doctor gave the kids instructions on my aftercare, shooed them out so I could put my burial dress back on, and we headed out. As we walked through the lobby, Bonus Daughter muttered "they all know what you just did."
W. drove us home with a stop at the Sonic drive-through, the Bonus Daughter ate almost all my tots, and then W. tucked me into bed and got Nurse Bo snuggled in place next to me. And old editor chum asked if I'd be posting the video (since clearly I have zero qualms about sharing the most intimate details of my life) but they only gave me hard copy photos, which I will be happy to share for $7 bucks a pop. And maybe use as my new online-dating profile picture.
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