I had my decadal colonoscopy on Tuesday. When I had my last colonoscopy, I had diet restrictions only for the day before. This time I could not have dairy products, raw fruits, seeds, beans, or whole grains on Sunday, two days before the procedure. That meant that when we had a Southwestern lunch on Sunday, I couldn’t have beans, cheese or sour cream on my burrito, and I couldn’t eat the cheese dip. I probably shouldn’t have used salsa, since it has tomato seeds, but the burrito was so bland without dairy products that it wouldn’t have been edible without salsa.
On Monday, I was on a liquid diet. All day. That means I did not eat a meal at all on Monday. Popsicles don’t really count as a meal. Neither does Jello. Or even beef broth.
And then Monday night, the “bowel prep” began. If you haven’t done this, it’s really something to look forward to. Mark your 50th birthday on your calendar, because that’s when you’re supposed to start routine screening for colon cancer or other conditions.
My preparation was split between Monday night and Tuesday morning. Monday night I drank a half gallon solution of propylene glycol, sodium chloride, potassium chloride, sodium bicarbonate and sodium sulfate, eight ounces every ten minutes. It tastes every bit as bad as it sounds, even with a flavor packet (lemon lime). There was a slight scent of lemon-lime just as I was bringing the glass to my lips, and then it was gone.
The next morning I drank the rest. By then I was getting to like it. Not really.
In case you’re wondering, and you probably aren’t, the bowel prep is intended to wash everything out of your entire digestive tract. This means that what goes in soon comes out. So don’t leave home during this process.
The most interesting part (The only interesting part? Is any part of this interesting?) was the sedation process. Ten years ago, when I woke up, I was groggy for hours. I barely remember walking down the hall with Leah. I remember standing in line at Wendy’s for lunch, and Leah ordering me to sit down at the table. I must have been drifting. I remember sitting on my bed and telling Leah I didn’t need to sleep. And then I kind of remember waking up some hours later. Everything else is completely gone. I don’t remember the drive to Wendy’s or the drive back home. I have no memory of anything else.
This time, the sedative was just what the doctor ordered – for Michael Jackson. Propofol’s effect is quite different from what I got the previous time. The nurse-anesthetist said propofol would basically put me to sleep. It would enter my system quickly and go away quickly.
When they stuck me I tried to be aware of the sedation process, but all I remember is things starting to whirl, and then I was gone. Then the nurse-anesthetist told me to wake up. And I did. It was just like being asleep. In fact, I was in the middle of a dream when they told me to wake up.
They wheeled me to recovery and I remember everything that happened. I was about 80 to 90 percent normal. There was no lingering grogginess at all. Not even now, after a not-recommended beer before dinner.
It’s a lot easier for me to understand how a doctor could order propofol for Michael Jackson if he couldn’t sleep. It’s also easy to understand how Michael Jackson could have believed there would be ill effects from the drug. It’s not so easy to understand how someone could administer it to a patient and then walk away from him. I had oxygen and my heart and blood pressure were being monitored the whole time. I guess that’s the difference between waking up alert, and not waking up at all.
Oh, by the way, I had six polyps removed. I’ll hear what they were in a couple of weeks.
Hope the biopsies all turn out ok. That’s a curious and onerous development in the pre-procedure responsibilities. Sounds like a micro manager got in control of the festivities.
I haven’t had a colonoscopy yet, and I’m sure I should have by now. I’ve been riding on a complete lack of cancer in my family history (other than the skin pre cancers that my parents deliberately gave themselves).
Before the emergency surgery this July for, well, *you* know lol, I asked the anesthesiologist what the anesthetic was. “Propofol,” he said, and launched into a monologue about how it wasn’t dangerous and Michael Jackson just abused it. I know less about Michael Jackson than I did then about propofol, and told him that I just wanted to see if I could remember the name of the anesthetic after the surgery.
“You probably won’t even remember this conversation,” he said, tartly, and I realized that it’s not the best plan to interrupt your anesthesiologist’s holding forth moments before surgery.
Well, I woke up instantly after the surgery, and spotted the anesthesiologist leaving the room. I called out after him, “propofol.” For the next 12 hours I wouldn’t shut up. I was mildly but distinctly ecstatic, and utterly sharp. Or so I thought of myself. A completely different reaction from the anesthetic I had had 20 years earlier for gall bladder removal. I’d go back just for the propofol, you can believe that.
The nurse-anesthetist who did mine was friendly and interested in what I had to ask and say. Maybe that’s a difference between a n-a and a dr.
I had my first colonoscopy this year. I waited until I was 60. The doctors yelled at me, especially because Roger had had colon cancer. One doctor said, “You are so cavalier about this.” True, very true. I finally relented. The prep was a bummer. I broke with protocol and started drinking the stuff a few hours earlier than prescribed. I just wanted to get it over with. I’m very small (104 pounds), so by the time I did the morning dose, I was literally empty and passing bile. Oh well. I had asked the doc and assistants if I could try the procedure without drugs. They were alarmed but complied. I don’t do drugs well at all. I lasted about five minutes without and started to feel considerable discomfort. They totally drugged me within an inch of my life. I don’t remember the ride home or the rest of the day.
You and Wayne make me want to try Propofol, if I EVER agree to do another colonoscopy. It sounds interesting and maybe not as horrible as the versed cocktail I was given.
Hope all the polyps are fine and benign.
Robin, yes, the prep is the worst part, assuming you aren’t awake and aware during the procedure. It sounds like they gave you the old-fashioned sedation. My mother had a colonoscopy and was either not sedated or was inadequately sedated and she said it was a torture session. I don’t want to know what’s going on during one of these, so I want sedation. Propofol is the way to go. As I said and Wayne noted, you are up and over it (or pretty much over it, or think you’re over it) just as soon as they finish the procedure. I think I was a little more tired than usual last night, but other than that, once I left the clinic I felt pretty much completely normal.
Mark: I’ve had three colonoscopies so far, and I’m just 61 years old; in fact, I’m due for another next year. My paternal grandfather and a paternal uncle both died of colon cancer, so my doctors want to watch me pretty closely. You’re right: the prep’s a bummer, but it’s only one day. I always hope I’ll lose weight from not eating, but it never makes any difference (not that I need to lose weight). I don’t know what drug they used on me last time, but I, too, woke up rarin’ to go with almost no side effects. In fact, the only side effect I suffered was a very sore area on the back of my left hand where they inserted the needle to deliver the drug; that sucker was really sore and painful for about two weeks after the procedure.
Scott – that’s a bummer. I have no colon cancer in my family as far as I know, but Leah had colon cancer. She was undergoing chemo when we were dating back around 1999. She was always ready to go out to eat, but I think she really didn’t feel that much like eating. She has been clear since, but she has had a lot of colonoscopies.