Showing posts with label colonoscopy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label colonoscopy. Show all posts

Monday, August 20, 2012

Vagina Dialogues

Over the course of one’s lifetime, we end up going to many kinds of doctors. I know I have seen pretty much every specialist out there. We women seem to have it much worse than the men. I know…I know, guys...you get your prostate checked and yada yada yada...and I’m sure getting your balls squeezed for 3 nano-seconds while coughing is ten times worse than giving birth. We feel very sorry for you. But let me tell you...going to the gynecologist is not only humiliating [not quite as humiliating as the proctologist, mind you, but humiliating nonetheless], but it is also the gateway to so many other kinds of exams and more. 

Yesterday, I was fortunate enough to have my six month checkup with my gyno. I happen to love my gyno...she's thorough, knowledgeable, young and chatty. Quite chatty. I tend to wonder if she's paying attention to what she's doing while her hands are halfway up my hoohoo and she's chatting away inside my vagina.

But before I even get to see her, I have to get on the exam table while her nurse takes my vitals. I always wondered why blood pressure and temperature are the two standard measurements they take in every office no matter what kind of doctor you're visiting. If I'm visiting the orthopedist, what's he going to do if I have a fever? Put me in a neck brace? I think I'll have to check that one out on Google. Or I guess I could just ask my daughter since she's a medical assistant and in nursing school. It's the simple, logical things that I tend not to think of right away. I frighten myself sometimes.

"Take off all your clothes and put the top on, open to the front please, and drape the other across your lap. You can leave your socks on if you'd like." It's a look we all want to have at some point. Naked, wearing athletic socks.




I don't know about you, but I unknowingly get nervous in the doctor's office and the longer I sit there, the more I start sweating, and when my bare bottom is sitting on that examining table paper, my tushy starts to stick to it.  I try to lean to one side and then the other, to lift up off the paper, but little pieces break off on each cheek and by the time the doctor comes in, I have an entire paper roll stuck to my butt. 




Sometimes I wait so long for the doctor to come in, I start to check things out: test my reflexes with the little knee knocker thingie; take a few gloves and shove them in my purse, [for reasons unbeknownst even to me]; search the drawers for anything of interest; take my own blood pressure, [just because I feel grown up using the stethoscope]; and read all the back, knee, neck, organ and shoulder diagrams. Sometimes I go to the doctor just to catch up on my medical reading; although many of the diagrams are way out of my league and totally baffle me.




Finally the doctor comes in and after she's done picking the paper out of my nether region, she comes at me with the Jaws of Life. "You're going to feel a little pinch." A LITTLE pinch? You may as well attach a lobster claw down there. That clench would be less of a pinch then the instrument she's using. How wide do you need it? I'm not delivering twins here. When she spoke I could hear an echo. 

"Now you'll feel a little scraping." You peeling paint in there? What the hell are you doing? I'd like to keep just a small part of my uterus, or cervix or whatever the hell you're excavating, if you don't mind. Is there a construction site in there?

It's not like I haven't had this done 50 times before, but each time seems just a tad worse than the last. I guess as you get older, and as you see less and less activity...anything shoved up there is a little shocking to the system. 




We commenced with the small talk. She began..."So, how have you been? Anything new going on?" Since her head is staring right into my vaginal cavity I assume she's asking the question regarding my vaginal activity. Since those lips don't really speak for themselves I thought I would answer for them. "Can't say there's been too much action going on." (But thank you so much for reminding me.) "Yes, I can see that...that's not exactly what I was asking." You can see that? What the hell else can you see in there? China? Are my car keys in there...they've been missing? "I was asking about your health...how have you been feeling...you ok? Anything bothering you?"

Oh...you mean aside from the fact that I've been celibate for the last two years, can't remember what a penis looks like and once tried to pick up a cross dresser? (Not really....I made that last one up.) I'm good...if you want to call newly formed jowls, saggy skin, creaky bones, shoulder pain, neck pain, back pain, blurred vision and memory loss, good.  Then I'm great! Couldn't be any better. 

"It's that time of year for your mammogram and bone density tests." Oh, yippee. I always look so forward to being reminded of all the testing that only the aging have to do. Should we throw in another colonoscopy while we're at it?  That's always one of the small pleasures for the over 50 bunch. “Would you like to have them at the same time?” No, thanks, I think one test at a time is plenty. I don’t want to glow from the radiation when I walk out.

“I see you have your gym clothes with you…are you going to work out after?” If I can get my legs closed after you get that crowbar out of me, yes, it’s a good possibility. Of course, I’m now 8 inches wider down there, so let’s hope nothing falls out. I’ll try not to push or exert too much.




“Well…everything looks good. I’ll call you when we get the results back and please remember to set up your tests. You don’t want to put those off.” I don't? Yes I do. "You can get dressed now and I'll see you in 6 months. Good seeing you." 

I got dressed, walked out to the reception area, paid my co-pay, got a few samples from the doctor and left. On my way out to the parking lot, I passed by a few people, nodded hello, just happy I was done with that visit, and took off in my car to the gym. When I got there, I had to pee so badly, I barely made it to the bathroom...and the gym was packed. I was hoping the bathrooms weren't all taken. I walked into the locker room and as I passed by the mirror...there it was...examining table paper hanging out of my gym shorts. And no one at the doctor's office thought it was worth mentioning? I now belong to a new gym.





 

Thursday, October 28, 2010

shit or get off the pot

There are certain requirements once we reach that 50+ demo that, as kids, we swore we would never indulge in. I found that out as a young girl when I would overhear my mom and my nana talking on the phone. It was mandatory that you discuss your bowel movements. I'm not sure why that was a necessity, but it seemed to really be an important matter to them both. There was never a conversation without discussing their daily bowel habits. I figured that once I became 50 or older...I would have to discuss my potty dealings with all my adult counterparts. It was just part of the evolution of aging.

There are also certain tests that are required once you cross over that 50 age limit. Two of my favorites...the mammogram and the colonoscopy. I can't tell you how much I have looked forward to these all my life. Who would have ever thought I would actually reach that age where I had to partake in these wonderful assessments of my breasts and my asshole (ok, my colon...but still...my asshole IS involved!). But here I am to tell you exactly how I feel about these two exams.

Mammo's...as we women so endearingly refer to them. Please tell me why the "thing" has to squish your breast til it wants to explode. And why can't they make that plate warm? Is there something written in the American Journal of Medicine that says make it as cold as you can so as to freeze the frickin' breast til it cracks? Maybe we can see ice cubes shoot out of her nipples? I also believe the technician runs her hands under cold water before she handles your ta-ta's. Then she discusses it with the other technicians about how we flinched and almost smacked her in the face until she pressed our tits so hard we couldn't catch our breath. And let's not take just a couple of pictures...let's take 4-8 pictures...so we can squish it so many times to see her tolerance. And if you have breast implants...we wanna see if we can pop those suckers! Then let's make her wait to see if they came out ok...but let's tell her..."oh...sorry...this one isn't clear. We need to do your left breast all over again". Uh huh...yeah...THAT's gonna happen.''  Just let me leave and you won't lose your life.

Colonoscopies...have you ever had a colonoscopy? Because if you haven't...you will never understand the "scope" of what I'm going to describe! The procedure itself...piece of cake. The preparation...you have got to be kidding me. I never knew so much shit could come out of one little body, that came out of mine. In my wildest dreams...my poor little butt has never seen the toilet that often in my 56 years, as it did in these 4 or 6 or 8 or whatever frickin' hours of prep it took for my wonderful colonoscopy. Let me say that word again...COLON-FUCKING-OSCOPY.

OK...I'm good.

Jello...if I never see another bite of jello in my entire life...it will be too soon. I hated it before my prep...and I hate it even more now. I ate an entire VAT of jello...the size of Jupiter, because that's pretty much all I could eat. And it couldn't be red...it had to be some other color that I can't stand. So I ate orange. If I never see the color orange again...it will be too soon. Are you getting the picture? Oh yeah...I was allowed BROTH. I could VOMIT. Broth? So I got this broth and put it in a cup and microwaved the shit out of it and held my nose as I sipped cup after cup of BROTH! What the fuck is broth anyway? Does it have a purpose other than being part of the diet of a colonoscopy patient? Not being a cook, I'm not familiar with broth...but after tasting it...I don't understand why it's even a product that someone may purchase. It's absolutely disgustingly vile.

So...jello and broth will never be a part of my existence until my next colonoscopy. Can't wait for THAT day!

The laxatives...oh my g-d..seriously!!!! I wish it was an out of body experience but it couldn't be any more IN body than it was. My poor little tushy! The laxatives and drink combined are supposed to "irrigate" my body. And the preparation is supposed to "prepare" you for what's going to happen. Well...let me tell you...there was no preparation for this shit but there definitely was irrigation! When it hit....it hit...and I bee lined for the toilet. I was like an offensive tackle. You get in my way...I'm gunning you down. The toilet was my best friend for the next 8 hours. Who ever knew that a body could hold this much shit without turning brown. I felt like I was shitting out every organ of my body. I'm surprised there are still body parts left within me. I kept looking in the toilet to see if I could identify which organ decided to streamline it's way out of my ass hole. The body is a strong vehicle. Because if every single thing doesn't come pouring out of you during this period...you have conquered the colonoscopy. I have permanent half moon imprints in both my cheeks. And I take pride...I HAVE conquered the colonoscopy!

And I don't need one for another for 10 years...how lucky am I!

But the great thing is...as much as I hated these exams...I am so thankful for them. And don't ever let anyone ever dissuade you from them. They suck...but they are life saving and you couldn't ask for anything more. And just think...you, too, could have a great experience to share! asshole to asshole!