Alive! (For now)

 

I'm still among the land of the living, for now anyway. The possibility of a delayed onset complication doesn't elude me. I'll wait until my first bowel movement so I can check for any excessive blood before declaring I'm in the clear. This was a bizarre, once (I hope) in a lifetime experience. I had planned to take the subway to the doctor's office, but because my colon was still emptying when I should have been leaving my apartment, I had to take an Uber. The driver got me there just in time, at a minute after 8:30. Since last night I'd been a bit frantic because I accidentally drank unstrained chicken broth after starting the laxatives. This meant very small bits of spices and seasoning would have likely made their way into my otherwise pristine intestines. A sudden jolt of fear gripped me when I realized what I'd done.

Fuck, I said out loud. I was incredulous. How had I made such a mistake after taking pains to properly strain the first glass? At the time my mind was all over the place with stress. I had been speaking to an old friend on the phone who was on his way to the airport to catch a flight from JFK to Utah. This proved a sufficient distraction for the error to occur. In fact, I didn't even notice I'd done it until I had hung up the phone, gone inside, gone to the bathroom, and gone back to the kitchen to continue drinking. Once I held the cup to my eyes in better light I saw I'd forgotten to strain the bits from the pot.

Google revealed others had made similar absentminded blunders, but I couldn't determine conclusively whether this would nullify the entire colonoscopy. Would my intestinal tract be littered with small pieces of debris which would interfere with the scope? Presumably this would increase the risk of complications such as a perforation since the doctor would need to maneuver around them, right? There was no one to call - it was already past 8pm - so I turned to Reddit. The consensus was that it should be okay, but no one was willing to say this with certainty. So when I arrived at the office this morning I brought the powdered broth with me to show to the doctor. 

Everything was okay. 

Phew. The thought of having to go through the prep again within a week or two made my insides quiver. They directed me to a chair behind a curtain where I was instructed to remove my shoes, clothes and underwear, and put on a pair of shorts which had a large flap open on the backside. They looked comical, clownish even. I asked the nurse if she could take a photo of me wearing them. She said she was going to take plenty of photos, I just wouldn't be awake for them. Jokes aside, the nurses were very nice. They did a great job at distracting me and setting my mind at ease with their demeanor alone. They led me to an adjacent room and laid me down on a table where I was hooked up to an IV and a pulse oximeter. The other nurse put an oxygen tube in my nose. Soon the doctor arrived. This is where things got strange.

He told me something in German, but the only word I understood was dreams. 

So I said, "I didn't catch all of that, but you're wishing me good dreams?"

The anesthesiologist translated and confirmed. 

"Okay, but I don't feel very sleepy and the drug was administered two minutes ago. The last time I was asleep within a few seconds."

The anesthesiologist said yes, you should be sleeping, hold on. So she pushed more propofol into my vein. Nothing. I looked at her quizzically. It was burning slightly. I wonder if it was somehow blocked. She pushed more of the drug into my vein. It was at this moment that I saw my hairy asshole on the TV screen.

"Wait a minute," I started, looking over the shoulder towards the doctor, "shouldn't we wait until I'm asleep to start?"

You'll be asleep any second, he told me, as he pressed a lubed up thumb into my conscious anus. I made a protesting groan of discomfort in response. He was right: I felt like I was drifting, but not fast enough. I turned back toward the anesthesiologist who looked on at me with pity. Her eyes seemed to say, I'm sorry. In my half dreaming, delusional state I looked over at the TV as the camera snaked its way deeper into my anal cavity. I was mesmerized. This was trippier than anything I'd ever seen at Burning Man. My colon was clean, shiny and well-illuminated, and it was on display in 4K for the world to see. There were no seeds or grains and, to my surprise, no chicken broth seasoning. Clean and wet as a whistle. I tried to say something but noticed my vocal cords weren't responsive. Somehow I was able to muster a feeble groan to signify I was still awake and could feel the device slithering up into my stomach, but no one paid me any mind. For a moment I slipped into unconsciousness but then I was back a few seconds later. More visages of my colon floated by as I felt myself disassociating from my body. I saw her give one last press of the 240mg of propofol into my bloodstream and then I was gone. Some time later I was being walked back to my bed in the room with the curtains.

I laid there for a few minutes, not quite dreaming, not quite awake, trapped in that pleasant and perpetual state of ease and timelessness one feels in between alarm snoozes. Soon a new nurse, but also a familiar one, appeared. She had helped me on Wednesday. I explained to her that I wasn't fully asleep, that I had 'witnessed my own asshole.' I tried to communicate what it was like to simultaneously watch the penetration but also experience it. When she asked me how I was feeling I told her I felt okay, but that I wasn't as drowsy or incapacitated as I've been in the past under similar circumstances, that'd I'd be on my feet in no time. She went to bring me a cup of green tea and I got dressed while she was gone. She was surprised to see me fully clothed and upright. 

"Can I eat the banana I brought?" I asked.

Sure.

"Ah, also, is it okay if I wipe the goo from my ass? I brought my own wipes. Can I dispose of them in this bin?"

Yes.

"Perfect."

I cleaned myself up a bit and waited for the doctor. When he entered he told me everything was fine, that there was no inflammation or blood or signs of cancer. I asked him if there were any polyps because I was reading on the paper that one biopsy had been made. He told me no. He seemed to be in a hurry. He was gone as soon as he came. The nurse reappeared and she handed me a report to give to my house doctor. On this report it also mentioned a polyp was found.

"Hey, one question. Was a polyp sent for biopsy, because I just asked the doctor and he said no but on both pieces of paper I've seen it looks like there was."

"Hmm, that's strange" she said, "yes, a polyp was removed. We're sending it to the lab and they should have the results sent to your doctor within a week."

"Weird. I wonder why he said there were no biopsies made. Maybe he misunderstood me?"

"No, that would be strange," she said.

I agreed. We both awkwardly shrugged.

They called me a cab and I left.