Posted on 02/24/2008 10:56:07 AM PST by nuconvert
Dave Barry: A journey into my colon -- and yours OK. You turned 50. You know you're supposed to get a colonoscopy. But you haven't. Here are your reasons:
1. You've been busy.
2. You don't have a history of cancer in your family.
3. You haven't noticed any problems.
4. You don't want a doctor to stick a tube 17,000 feet up your butt.
Let's examine these reasons one at a time. No, wait, let's not. Because you and I both know that the only real reason is No. 4. This is natural. The idea of having another human, even a medical human, becoming deeply involved in what is technically known as your ''behindular zone'' gives you the creeping willies.
I know this because I am like you, except worse. I yield to nobody in the field of being a pathetic weenie medical coward. I become faint and nauseous during even very minor medical procedures, such as making an appointment by phone. It's much worse when I come into physical contact with the medical profession. More than one doctor's office has a dent in the floor caused by my forehead striking it seconds after I got a shot.
In 1997, when I turned 50, everybody told me I should get a colonoscopy. I agreed that I definitely should, but not right away. By following this policy, I reached age 55 without having had a colonoscopy. Then I did something so pathetic and embarrassing that I am frankly ashamed to tell you about it.
What happened was, a giant 40-foot replica of a human colon came to Miami Beach. Really. It's an educational exhibit called the Colossal Colon, and it was on a nationwide tour to promote awareness of colo-rectal cancer. The idea is, you crawl through the Colossal Colon, and you encounter various educational items in there, such as polyps, cancer and hemorrhoids the size of regulation volleyballs, and you go, ''Whoa, I better find out if I contain any of these things,'' and you get a colonoscopy.
If you are as a professional humor writer, and there is a giant colon within a 200-mile radius, you are legally obligated to go see it. So I went to Miami Beach and crawled through the Colossal Colon. I wrote a column about it, making tasteless colon jokes. But I also urged everyone to get a colonoscopy. I even, when I emerged from the Colossal Colon, signed a pledge stating that I would get one.
But I didn't get one. I was a fraud, a hypocrite, a liar. I was practically a member of Congress.
Five more years passed. I turned 60, and I still hadn't gotten a colonoscopy. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I got an e-mail from my brother Sam, who is 10 years younger than I am, but more mature. The email was addressed to me and my middle brother, Phil. It said:
``Dear Brothers,
``I went in for a routine colonoscopy and got the dreaded diagnosis: cancer. We're told it's early and that there is a good prognosis that they can get it all out, so, fingers crossed, knock on wood, and all that. And of course they told me to tell my siblings to get screened. I imagine you both have.''
Um. Well.
First I called Sam. He was hopeful, but scared. We talked for a while, and when we hung up, I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis. Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, quote, ``HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BUTT!''
I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called ''MoviPrep,'' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America's enemies.
I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor. Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons.) Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes -- and here I am being kind -- like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.
The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, ''a loose watery bowel movement may result.'' This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.
MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.
After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, ''What if I spurt on Andy?'' How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.
At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the hell the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.
Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.
When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was Dancing Queen by Abba. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, Dancing Queen has to be the least appropriate.
''You want me to turn it up?'' said Andy, from somewhere behind me.
''Ha ha,'' I said.
And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.
I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, Abba was shrieking ``Dancing Queen! Feel the beat from the tambourine . . .''
. . . and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.
But my point is this: In addition to being a pathetic medical weenie, I was a complete moron. For more than a decade I avoided getting a procedure that was, essentially, nothing. There was no pain and, except for the MoviPrep, no discomfort. I was risking my life for nothing.
If my brother Sam had been as stupid as I was -- if, when he turned 50, he had ignored all the medical advice and avoided getting screened -- he still would have had cancer. He just wouldn't have known. And by the time he did know -- by the time he felt symptoms -- his situation would have been much, much more serious. But because he was a grown-up, the doctors caught the cancer early, and they operated and took it out. Sam is now recovering and eating what he describes as ''really, really boring food.'' His prognosis is good, and everybody is optimistic, fingers crossed, knock on wood, and all that.
Which brings us to you, Mr. or Mrs. or Miss or Ms. Over-50-And-Hasn't-Had-a-Colonoscopy. Here's the deal: You either have colo-rectal cancer, or you don't. If you do, a colonoscopy will enable doctors to find it and do something about it. And if you don't have cancer, believe me, it's very reassuring to know you don't. There is no sane reason for you not to have it done.
I am so eager for you to do this that I am going to induce you with an Exclusive Limited Time Offer. If you, after reading this, get a colonoscopy, let me know by sending a self-addressed stamped envelope to Dave Barry Colonoscopy Inducement, The Miami Herald, 1 Herald Plaza, Miami, FL 33132. I will send you back a certificate, signed by me and suitable for framing if you don't mind framing a cheesy certificate, stating that you are a grown-up who got a colonoscopy. Accompanying this certificate will be a square of limited-edition custom-printed toilet paper with an image of Miss Paris Hilton on it. You may frame this also, or use it in whatever other way you deem fit.
But even if you don't want this inducement, please get a colonoscopy. If I can do it, you can do it. Don't put it off. Just do it.
Be sure to stress that you want the non-Abba version.
LOL!
Sounds like the prep could have been better. At least there were no commercials...Imagine!!
"You SHOULD have used COLON-JET™, the choice of Professionals!!"
Dave Barry Colonoscopy Inducement, The Miami Herald, 1 Herald Plaza, Miami, FL 33132
Check !
I agree. I had one last year at age 53. I was overdue because my older brother died from colon cancer at age 52 in 1993.
My older sisters had them done, and kept harping on me to do so.
I have been blessed with very good health, and had never had anesthesia before.
The experience was wonderful.I read up on it, asked my sisters for advice, and got a good doctor.
The prep was like Barry said. It works fairly quickly, but I prepared by having reading material by the toilet that I wanted to catch up on. The key here is to lower the amount of solid food you eat in the days before the prep—then there is less to remove.
Althought the prep drink was like a citrus flavored flat ginger ale, it wasn’t so bad. Just follow instructions.
I had some world class evacuations, which made me laugh hysterically, but you actually feel much better afterwards.
The morning of the exam was just like Dave said. Everyone was upbeat, the anesthesia worked wonderfully. One moment I am conversing with the nurse being rolled into the op area, next thing I wake up and it was all over.
All was well—clean bill of health. Doc says see you in ten years, it was that clean.
Well, I’ll see her on the five year anniversary—no sense pushing my luck.
In my brother’s case, he had colon cancer found too late. He had the removal operation, but the cancer metastisized into his liver. It was terminal, so he declined chemo and lived the last five months of his life on his terms. About two months before he died, he lost all feeling from the mid waist down due to the cancer going to his spine, but that turned put to be a great blessing because he could feel no pain in his abdomen.
We were all able to be around him, at his home, when he died. At least he did not die alone. He didn’t smoke, drank a little, was very tall and athletic. But cancer found him anyway.
So, to all of you out there, don’t be a weenie. Get a colonoscopy. Either way, you come out ahead—you either catch something early that can kill you, or you are elated that nothing is wrong.
You’ll be glad you did, as you sit with your family next Christmas at dinner.
Don’t be afraid.l am a coward and l have been through it ten times.l go every year.lt isn’t the nicest thing in the world but it is better then colon cancer.
Unfortunate choice of words.
Being told you have advanced cancer is much more scary than the tube.
Really, the prep is the worst part. The procedure itself is just as Dave described it -- you're on the table with the medical people getting ready to begin, then you're being wheeled out of the room being told it's all over with. There's not even a sense of the passage of time.
All were were non cancerous, aside from the normal male aversion to having something stuck in your butt it wasn't bad.
Wasn’t ‘perky’ Katie awake during her supposed colonoscoy?
If so, that says some rather, er, amusing things about her.
thanks, bfl
At 48 you need to consider your family history..has anyone had colon cancer? Who? Any one who has a first degree relative should be screened and if you are the child of a parent who has had colon cancer, the reading I have done, suggest that the child have the first screening at age 10 years younger than when the parent was discovered to have had the disease. My B I L had colon cancer at age 44 so his kids should be starting screening at 34. Since then at age 58 he had a second colon cancer and has since had his entire large colon removed..not an easy thing to live with but he is doing ok.
Secondly, if you have any symptoms get screened.
When I had this done a couple years ago I discovered something that helps with the burning that the prep can lead to due to frequent, to say the least, trips to the loo. It is called BALMEX and you find it in the baby supply dept. Use it liberally before you take the coctail! Then after each trip to the loo use a baby wipe, not toilet tissue, and applay more BALMEX. I had no burning and the staff was not sure I did the prep.
As to the procedure itself..it is a breeze. I took a long time to go down so while I had NO pain at all, I remember everything except going into the recovery room. It took me longer to come out of that wonderful drug induced snooze and the next day I had more energy that 10 men and 4 small boys in one..
If you are due, do it..it could save your life.
I have another brother in law and sister in law who won’t go do this so I am printing off the article and mailing it to them...
There is NOTHING TO BE SCARED OF EXCEPT A DIAGNOSIS OF CANCER AND THE EARLIER YOU FIND IT THE MORE SUCCESSFUL THE OUTCOME...lIKE THE OL NIKE AD USED TO SAY “ JUST DO IT”!
ps,,I had an afternoon appt so I took the Cocktail early enough that I didn’t have to worry about the spurts..thank goodness,,I guess you could say I should have been singing “ Afternoon Delight”!
I had my first colonoscopy five years ago at age 58, have my second one scheduled for March 7.
For everyone who can't face the thought of having it done, believe me, it's a helluva lot better than seeing what my dear mother went through.
Dave Barry is, IMO, brilliant. But I liked him a lot more before I read some leftist comments he had made some time back.
Sounds like you had Phosposoda..that is what I had and got the ginger flavored one..added gingerale and it wasn’t too bad.
Sounds like you had Phosposoda..that is what I had and got the ginger flavored one..added gingerale and it wasn’t too bad. Oh yeah and it went to work on me in 15 minutes,,
Yes you can gut it out..my brother did....but not me...that won’t happen.
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