Congratulations to All the Participants but I Have Once Again Won the Colonoscopy Contest
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I suppose, considering my age and station in life, it was inevitable that I would eventually make the transition from “guy who writes about parenting” to “guy who writes about having a colonoscopy.” Well, at long last, here we are.
My recent colonoscopy was not my first “scopeo.” Because I have a mild inflammatory bowel disease, I began having semi-regular colonoscopies in my mid-thirties. There are some advantages to starting young. Namely, you’re typically decades younger than all the other patients in the gastroenterologist’s waiting room so you are treated as a bit of a novelty. During my earliest appointments, multiple staff members, patients, and casual observers commented on how youthful and vibrant I looked. This doesn’t happen quite as much anymore, but I still have the memories to look back fondly upon. Like the time the office staff gathered around and marveled as I performed a series of stretches to show off my flexibility. This particular memory is a made-up one, but I sometimes wish it were real. I’ve always treated medical appointments as a competition and colonoscopies are no exception.
Because of the pandemic, I was able to forestall my colonoscopy by a couple of years, which was ideal because it gave me more time to train. Whenever my schedule allowed, I practiced guzzling liquids. You’re probably thinking this is a joke about drinking alcohol, but you’re wrong. As a purist, I only guzzle water. And occasionally water laced with salt on April Fool’s Day when my kids pull one of their very original and hilarious pranks. All my hard work certainly paid off because, on the evening before my colonoscopy, I was able to down the entire first dose of the liquid prep in under 9 minutes and 30 seconds. After the last drop of saccharine sweet and salty solution passed across my lips, I slammed the plastic mixing jar down on the kitchen counter triumphantly and immediately texted my wife to let her know about my momentous accomplishment. She replied, simply, “Congratulations.”
Perhaps she would’ve been more impressed if I had texted her my exact time, but I rounded to 10 minutes because I didn’t want to get too deep into the weeds. Most people aren’t interested in the particulars of colonoscopies. I’m assuming that everyone reading this is an exception.
I won’t bore you with the details of the prep, but needless to say, it went amazingly. It was a split prep, an evening dose and a morning dose, and by the time things were winding down the next morning, I was pretty confident my gastroenterologist would have a pretty spectacular view. Possibly the best view of a colon he’s ever had. A man can dream.
To make sure I didn’t give even the slightest glimmer of hope to the competition, I refused to cut any corners. Colonoscopy prep instructions tend to be spectacularly vague and contradictory, kind of like a religious text. The instruction sheet I got from my doctor, possibly several years ago when I was supposed to have my colonoscopy, indicated that I should eat only a clear liquid diet the day before my appointment. On the other hand, the instructions on the prep box said I could eat a light breakfast before switching to a liquid diet.
I was having none of it. I ate my last solid food in the evening on Monday, a very low-residue meal of white pasta, and fasted until my appointment at lunchtime on Wednesday. Nobody really stood a chance, but I stepped on all their throats even further by rising at 5:30 a.m. Wednesday morning and slurping down the saline slurry in an extremely speedy 8 minutes and 15 seconds, a new personal best. I won’t get too graphic about the remainder of the morning, but by around 10 o’clock, it was pretty clear to see that I was going to come out on top.
The procedure itself was unremarkable. I successfully navigated an extremely chatty intake nurse who thought it was a good idea to let me know she’d been having some issues with constipation. I was like, “Well, I know just the thing…” I woke up about an hour 30 minutes after the procedure, the recovery nurse remarked that I had “been asleep for quite a while,” and about three minutes later, promptly wheeled me out to the parking lot where my wife was waiting with the car.
I was a bit woozy but I had my wits about me enough to ask the important question (Did I win?): “So, did the doctor say anything about getting a really exceptional view?”
“Actually, he did,” my wife replied as she steered the car out of the hospital parking lot. “And he said he knew you would ask that.”
What can I say? Just like any high-level competitor, my reputation precedes me. Now all that’s left is my follow-up appointment where I can hopefully find out if my bowel prep was indeed GOATed.
I think we all know the answer, but it’s good to get confirmation. Stay tuned.