digestion

If the title isn’t fair enough warning, let me be crystal clear: This post gets down and dirty with some off-color subject matter.

Yes, that would be fecal matter. Feel free to flee while you have the chance! 💩😱

Although the topic is by no means humorous, it’s kind of “funny” that I’m sitting here writing about it, considering that just the other day, that one “Family Guy” episode came on where Brian and Stewie get stuck in the safe at the bank. There’s a point where Stewie prevails upon Brian to help with “cleaning up” his full diaper, and I always have to change the channel during that particular scene. 🤮 Somehow, it’s less triggering for me to watch a dog and a baby get drunk, shoot guns and rip holes in each other’s ears…🤷🏼‍♀️

And somehow, discussing my own digestive issues feels different. Guess I’m just so used to living with IBS-C, so entrenched in the all-consuming daily struggle that started more than a decade ago and has been gradually, insidiously escalating ever since, that I’ve gone “nose blind” to how gross it all is — kind of like a hoarder living obliviously in filth. Or like an alcoholic driving to the liquor store faithfully every Thursday after work for a new bottle of tequila, after promising herself faithfully every Thursday morning that she was “only going to drink on the weekends from now on.”

Humans can truly get used to anything. Bad shit, literally, can become “ho hum” to the conditioned brain.

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Getting wheeled out of Holy Redeemer with a clean bill of health…and, for at least another hour, a clean colon. 😉

When they woke me up, with a gentle “You’re done!”, I understood exactly what “done” meant, and I was instantly filled with joy. This was like rising from a nap on a lazy Sunday afternoon and knowing you have, like, Thanksgiving leftovers in the fridge for dinner. 😋 Or that it’s the one special Sunday in the month that you and your hubby “splurge” and order Jules Thin Crust pizza. 😋😋

“You guys weren’t kidding!” I said brightly to my colonoscopy team, before even rolling from my side to my back. “That anesthesia works GREAT!”

Yes, part of my joy came from visions of solid food after more than 24 hours of…you don’t wanna know 🤢, but a larger part came from the sweet, sweet mixture of propofol and lidocaine coursing through my veins.

I’m no expert; I’m just telling you what was explained to me in the obligatory pre-sedation consultation. These are the drugs administered before your gastroenterologist sticks a tiny camera into your intestines and looks around for 20 minutes, searching for potentially problematic polyps or any abnormalities that might explain the awful digestive issues you’ve been experiencing for more than 10 years.

I should probably break in here to say, I’m extra joyful because no polyps were found during my procedure. I do not have colon cancer. Now, what the hell is actually going on with my temperamental, often cranky gut remains a bit of a mystery — not that you asked, but the doctor said I have an unusually long, or “redundant” colon that could, in concert with stressors in my everyday life, be making me miserable, and I should resume taking my IBS medication and call him in three months.

But, like I said, no colon cancer. Time to eat!!! 🍕🍕🍕

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Tag: digestion

Anesthesia