Published: May 15, 2008 10:09 am            

Holy colonoscopy, Batman!

Over the last few months, I have been feeling more and more out of sorts due to problems with my internal plumbing system. During my annual physical examination with our family doctor, we discussed these problems at length and then tried some changes in my medications to fix the problem. Unfortunately, the easy solution did not work. He then referred me to “gastroenterology” for further study.

For those of you unfamiliar with this branch of medicine, a “gastroenterologist” is a specialist in the science of the functions and diseases of the stomach, intestines, and various and sundry other internal organs. “Gastrology” is the counterpoint to my life-long specialty which is “gastronomy” — the art or science of good eating.

I figured the first thing this specialist would do would be to place his hand on my wallet and say, “Cough!” Instead, I was pleasantly surprised by his interest in my problem and the depth of his interview about my problem. I told him that when my stomach starts to growl, people in the area start looking for a whip and a chair. At this point I also apologized for disturbing the other folks in his waiting room.

We talked a lot about diet and nutrition and their influence on digestive issues. He was a little taken aback when I made the statement that health food makes me sick. My version of health food is anything I eat before the expiration date. I did brag about the fact that I eat from the four basic food groups every day — salt, sugar, alcohol, and grease.

At this point, poor Dr. Syed just shook his head and said, “Well, it’s no wonder your favorite song is that Willie Nelson classic, ‘On the Commode Again!’”

Anyway, as a means of eliminating any physiological causes for my digestive distress, I was scheduled for an endoscopy and a colonoscopy for last Friday. These procedures provide visual examination of the esophagus, stomach, and the large intestine and also allow for biopsies, polyp removal, and certain other medical treatments. They are kind of like all-encompassing virtual spelunkers’ travelogues you might see on the Discovery Channel.

Now, I know that Katie Couric had a colonoscopy on national television and she never even smeared her makeup. However, as anyone who has had either of these procedures knows, the worst parts of the whole deal are the pre-op indignities one must endure. First of all, you must ingest only clear liquids for a day-and-a-half prior to the surgery. I mean, just how much clear broth and Gatorade can a person stand? You must take laxatives for two days prior to the procedure. Then, the evening before and the morning of the procedure, you must take large doses of a vile liquid that has only two functions — flushing the human colon or unclogging a household septic tank.

On the day of the procedure, you must report your voided self in to the hospital where you are banded and led to a little stall where you must shuck all your clothes and put on the provided hospital gown. I have long held that hospital gowns and medical coverage are much the same in that you only think you have full coverage. In my case, the gown provided would have been a tight fit for Katie Couric, much less my 280-pound frame. My wife was barely able to tie the thing together at the back of my neck. From there down, it was pretty much wide open. Of course, they no sooner had me hooked up to my I.V., than I had to go to the porcelain modem one more time. This entailed wrapping a blanket around my waist like a sarong and schlepping down the hallway with I.V. bag held on high like the Statue of Liberty.

After being wheeled into the operating area and being positioned properly for invasions fore and aft, the anesthesia guy told me that I would feel some warmth in my veins and then be completely out in a matter of seconds. I told him, “I don’t feel any….”

About an hour later, I was having the greatest dreams of sugar-plums and sugar-babes when the same guy gently shook me awake. They wheeled me back out to my little cubicle, checked my vitals, gave me a couple cups of cranberry juice, and I was free to leave. At this point I would like to give a sincere shout-out to everyone I dealt with at Navarro Regional Hospital. The admissions folks, attending medical professionals, and hospital volunteers could not have been more caring and professional and I am thankful that we have such a fine facility here in Corsicana.

I must mention, that before I left, Dr. Syed discussed every aspect of the procedures with me and showed me the travelogue pictures he took on his trips into my cavernous stomach and the old polyp-farm. One picture of a particularly large polyp was so impressive, I am having it matted and framed. Lastly, he gave me a huge bottle of pills and told me to take one pill with 8 ounces of water at breakfast, one pill with 8 ounces of water at lunch, one pill with 8 ounces of water at dinner, and one pill with 8 ounces of water at bedtime. I asked him what I had that required all those pills and he said, “You’re not drinking enough water.” Gotta love a doc like that!

Medical advice for today: never trust a surgeon who comes in the operating room with little pieces of toilet paper stuck on his face.

Phrases you don’t want to hear during surgery: “O.K., everybody stand back, I lost a contact lens.” “What’s this doing here?” “Where does this go?” “There go those darned lights again!” “Hand me that … uh … that … thingie.”

See ya later…

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Dick Platt is a Daily Sun columnist. His column appears on Thursdays.

        

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