The Fantastic Voyage

The good news about expecting a pink slip is that I have been proactive about taking care of medical issues simmering on the back burner.

I've had gastrointestinal problems longer than I'd like to admit. There has been a painful tugging sensation behind my bellybutton since I was in junior high. I certainly have enough gynecological issues to attribute my symptoms to female problems, but I thought I better see a GI specialist while I still had insurance.

Naturally, he recommended I get a colonoscopy, a procedure I was hoping to avoid for at least another decade.

What a mine of dread and humor a colonoscopy is. I didn't want to admit to anyone that I was getting one, yet I wanted to vent my fears and gather information.

It turned out a few friends had the procedure and shared their experiences. This helped me brace for what was to happen. Frankly, what I imagined was much worse than what happened.

The preparation is awful, but Dr. Harary has it down to a science. I took a laxative drink on Friday night. On Saturday afternoon I took two laxative pills. I was apprehensive about all of these laxatives, but it turned out to be OK. I was able to go out on Saturday without any emergencies.

On Sunday, I ate no solid foods. Instead, I was restricted to clear broth, sorbet, jello, and clear sodas or tea. In the afternoon I started drinking this awful mixture called NuLytley. It was like drinking a gallon of oil. I drank 3 glasses in the first hour, but had difficulty getting down two glasses an hour each hour after that. The solution made me feel nauseous, so it was difficult to ingest the cause of the nausea. I didn't finish the gallon until midnight.

This solution clears the intestines. It requires many trips to the bathroom. I was worried that I would be up all night, but was able to sleep about 6 hours without interruption.

I expected to feel dehydrated and faint the next morning. I also worried about requiring emergency bathroom visits. Instead, I felt a little hunger and needed to use the restroom only about once an hour. I made it to the doctor's office via the subway without problem.

Anesthesiologists must be full of anecdotes. As I lay on the table with the IV inserted, he told me I might feel a burning sensation travel through my hand, up my arm, through my shoulder, and to my face. Sure enough, that happened. I said "My face is burning!" and was out.

As I emerged from consciousness, I had this idea that I was watching the "fantastic voyage" through my colon on the monitor in the surgical room. I dreamed I had a device where I could send a text message to the monitor. In my unconscious, I texted "This procedure is over." and saw the message on the monitor.

As the anesthesiologist wheeled me out of the room I mumbled, "Did you get my text?"

"What?" he asked.

"Did you get my text?" I said a little louder. "This procedure is over."

Then I lost consciousness again.

When I woke up, Dr. Harary was giving me instructions and having me sign papers. He told me they took a biopsy but not to worry about it. He asked how I felt, and I told him there was a pain behind my bellybutton.

"It's just gas." he told me and walked out of the room.

Gas! I felt so stupid complaining to the gastrointestinal specialist about gas.

Then a nurse walked in. She said we were going to deal with the gas. She had me turn to my other side. "Let it out." she told me. "Just relax and let it out."

My mind reeled. The nurse was encouraging me to fart for her! It would only have been more strange if she were wearing a cheerleading uniform and waving pom poms.

"Let it go." she coached, "Don't worry it's clean air."

Clean air! This made me laugh. It was true there was nothing in my intestine to add an aroma, but it just seemed wrong.

"I can't do that to you!" I told her.

She laughed. "Honey, this is a gastroenterologist's office. This is what we do!"

So I farted. And she said, "Good!"

It was a surreal moment.