My Colon is Beautiful, and I’m not Bad Looking Myself

            Last Tuesday, I had the opportunity to engage in what should be a great American midlife ritual—a colonoscopy. I turned 50 last September, so my time had come—and I survived!

            I know many people do not get a colonoscopy (and they should!). They fear the unknown. So, in the spirit of Katie Couric who, years ago, underwent a colonoscopy on National TV on the TODAY show (don’t worry, the event was videotaped and edited), I wish to share what you can expect. Hopefully, you and others will decide it is not a big deal and experience one when needed.

            Disclaimer # 1—My wife, Judy, and my normal proofreader, Sherry Bobbitt, have not seen this blog. Both have plausible deniability. Judy rarely reads my blog before I publish it (she may rarely read it anyway!), and Sherry is at home today due to an illness in the family. Therefore, I am flying solo today.

"Some men see things as they are and say, Why? I of dream things that never were, and say, Why not?"

            --George Bernard Shaw

            That has nothing to do with what I am going to write about; I just thought it would lend some dignity to the occasion.

            I had heard so much about how the prep time was the worst part of the colonoscopy, that I really did not dread the colonoscopy itself. While it wasn't exactly “bucket list” material, I still approached the procedure as something I must do, and then check it off for the next 10 years.

            However, the Saturday before, a spiritual battle erupted in the cosmos. That Saturday night, our bathtub stopped up. Next, our shower stopped up. Then, right before bed, the commode in our master bedroom bathroom overflowed. Sunday morning, I shut the water off that commode, and the commode in our guest bathroom overflowed.

            I called a plumber who did not charge overtime, and he told me something I had not thought about. Plumbers were not able work outside with electrical tools because of a driving rainstorm we were experiencing in Tyler. Since our problem was probably a clogged water line or sewer line, outside work was likely necessary.

            Under ordinary circumstances, this shut-down would present problems for my family, but since Tuesday was to be the proud day for my colonoscopy, what we were experiencing represented a crisis. In case you did not know, anyone prepping the day before a colonoscopy needs permanent access to a commode.

            I began to suspect either the Lord or Satan was against the colonoscopy. What I could not figure out was—which one? And why was one or the other against my colonoscopy? 

            I had to plan ahead. Do I reserve a hotel or motel room for Monday? Do I ask my poor 77-year-old mother if I can stay with her? Do I build an outhouse in my backyard?

            Incredibly, a potential solution created another problem for me. At 4:45 on Sunday afternoon, I received a call from a plumber. The rain had stopped; he could come out and look at our problem.

            Everybody in my family was gone, so I rushed to the house from my office to meet the plumber. Sure enough, he diagnosed the problem as a clogged line and said he could fix it. Monday's problem was solved.

            The new problem was—I had to go preach. Do I leave the plumber at the house by himself? That was not a good idea, and he probably would not have accepted that offer anyway.

            Fortunately, Judy was team teaching that night, so her co-teacher was able to fulfill the classroom duties. Judy stayed home with the plumber. We considered our plight at home to be the equivalent of “the ox stuck in the ditch”; therefore, neither Judy nor I sinned.

             The plumber did his job, so I was able to go to bed Sunday night somewhat confident for Monday. At 7 AM Monday morning, I began my prep work. First, the doctor had instructed me to take a heavy dosage of laxatives. Next, a couple of hours later, I was to take four more tablets for any pressure my stomach my experience. Next, about 30 minutes after that, I was to drink 64 ounces of Gatorade mixed with 255 grams of an even heavier dosage of laxative.

            Incredibly, none of this was distasteful. The Gatorade mixture tasted like–Gatorade. Drinking 8 ounces every 15 minutes, I finished off the non-alcoholic cocktail in a couple of hours.

            After all of this, the intended effect had not begun to occur. I was beginning to wonder if there was a problem when about 2:30 or so, it all hit.             Periodically, I had to go visit… well, let’s just say the “water closet.” Fortunately, I did not experience cramping, and I was pleasantly surprised at how easily the prep work was going. At about 7 PM, I ceased needing to visit the facilities.

            Since I was to arrive at the digestive Center at 7 AM the following morning, I planned to go to bed at 9 or 10 PM Monday night. However, at about 8:30 or 9, “it” hit again. Now, I was slightly concerned. I thought I was supposed to be done with that long before. (I tell you this so you will not feel anxious should the same happen to you.) Finally, about 11 PM, I decided it was worth attempting to go to sleep.

Learn from My Mistakes

            My alarm woke me up at 5:30 the next morning, and I realized–success! I did not have to get up during in the night.

            I arose, put the dogs out into the dog run, fed the dogs, took the trashcan out to the street, and then… “it” hit me one more time. I tell you this because I began to feel anxious that something was wrong and that the colonoscopy was going to have to be cancelled. It wasn’t. If this happens to you, don’t worry about it.

            However, do be concerned about this—drink plenty of water your day of prep. This is where I made an important mistake. Since I drank some water on Monday morning, and since I drank 64 ounces of Gatorade early Monday afternoon, I figured I spare myself a hassle if I held off drinking anything else until I had purged my body.

            This is known in elementary school language as—dumb! I had thought it was useless to drink anything because the water would just pass through my stomach and into my… well, you get the idea. Moreover, I thought I could simply listen to my body talk to me. If my body needed water, I figured it would pass along the message.

            What I did not realize was the Gatorade passed through me so fast because it carried enough laxative in it to fill a dump truck. Any water I added after that would have been greatly appreciated by my body.

            The next morning, my body gave me a message alright—“You idiot! I am dehydrated!”

            Here’s how my body told me. Again, I would not recommend this.

            First, my body began speaking to me in the bathroom at about 6 AM Tuesday morning. I began to sweat profusely and feel dizzy. Having read that a surprisingly high percentage of Americans die on toilets, I felt compelled to get off mine. Evidently, I had not attained a consensus on this with my body, for I passed out on the bathroom floor.

            Quickly, I staggered back up on my feet, made sure my clothes were arranged in decency and order, washed my hands and face... and then I began to feel dizzy again.

            Leaving our bathroom, I had trouble walking. I groped along the bookcases in our master bedroom, until I collapsed again. I faintly heard someone cry, and then I was passed out. I awoke with Judy holding me. She had been in another room when she heard me groping the bookcases, which she said sounded like a train coming down the railroad tracks.

            Our oldest daughter, Haleigh, awoke with a start. Seeing what was happening, she alertly called 911.

            I woke up pretty quickly after my collapse (I prefer to say, “I collapsed” instead of, “I fainted.” It’s a guy thing, I guess.) Judy ordered me not to move.

            Quickly, a fire truck and ambulance arrived at or house—so much for subtlety. The medics checked my vital signs and asked me a series of questions.             

            It was here I learned the profound lesson that it is not wise to quit drinking liquids at 1:30 PM on the day of your prep. I was dehydrated.

            The medics wanted take me to the emergency room, but I vetoed that. There was no way I was going to miss my colonoscopy. I had come too far. Wasn’t it on an occasion such as this that Knute Rockne said to “win one for the Gipper”?

            The medics tried to talk me out of that, but they finally relented when I promised to tell the doctor what had happened and signed a paper saying I wouldn’t sue them if I died.

            Judy also tried to talk me out of going, but I was determined. Did the Allied Forces cease the D-Day invasion because the going got tough? Okay, maybe my analogy is slightly over-the-top, but you get the idea—I was not going to be denied my colonoscopy!

The Main Event

            I was to arrive at the Digestive Center for my colonoscopy at 7 AM. I arrived at 7:02. Not bad.

            By 8 AM, I was talking to my doctor. Neither he nor anyone else seemed to be too concerned about what I had experienced; my guess is this is not the first time they had seen or heard of this. They simply put an IV in my arm and began hydrating me with fluids.

            My doctor and I chitchatted for a few minutes; a medical professional introduced himself and explained he needed to insert something in my arm.

            The next thing I knew, I was groggily waking up and being told to get dressed. I have absolutely no recollection of the colonoscopy. They could have dressed me like a clown and spun me round and round, and I would not have known it.

            I dressed myself and faintly remember someone offering me a wheelchair. Accepting their offer, I was wheeled out and given a ride home.            

            Upon arriving home, I ate a pop tart and drank a glass of orange juice. Henry Holub, one of our staff members, told me that I called him about this time. He was supposed to teach my Bible class at East Texas Christian Academy for me that morning. As much as I would like to deny it, my cell phone confirms that I phoned him at 10:26 AM.

            Henry said I told him class began at 10:54. Henry said I sounded “loopy.” I suspect it was because, according to Henry, I repeated “10:54” fifteen times.

            I can neither confirm nor deny this. If I called you, I sincerely apologize.             

            I went to bed about 10:30 AM. I woke up that afternoon at 1:30. I ate lunch, watched a movie on Netflix, and went back to bed at 3:30. I slept until 5:30. The rest of the evening was routine.

            As a parting gift, the Digestive Center gave me a photograph, make that several photographs, of my colon. I am thinking that displaying these in my office might break down communication barriers and create a quick intimacy with my guests. 

            I shared this idea with Judy. Judy did not think this was a good one.

            The upshot of all this is my colon looks great. I have no polyps, and I do not need to get another colonoscopy for ten years.

            In ten years, I will definitely go again. I have learned my lesson. I must drink plenty of fluids the day before during my prep time.

            I cannot tell you how important it is to get your colonoscopy at age fifty, or if your doctor recommends one to you at an earlier age. It really is no big deal. All you need is to plan well; you will probably need two days of your time.

            Remember, follow all of your doctor’s instructions and stay hydrated. Remember also, the colonoscopy could save your life.

            I have read colon cancer is the silent killer. It needs no more victims.

Five Things I Think I Think (with a nod to Peter King for this idea)

1. Well-said by ESPN’s Colin Cowherd, “…basically, here’s how you get a TV show in America: … you have a malady or an emotional issue we can exploit….”

2. I barely missed on my August prediction—Green Bay versus the Jets in the Super Bowl.

3. Who is this quarterback for the Bears—Caleb Hanie? There is nothing harder than trying to play when you have not practiced. Hanie played spectacularly, and he did so basically after having taken a three-year leave of absence. I have a big bias AGAINST talent. What I mean is that talent is overrated. Jay Cutler has talent. But Chicago needs to look at Caleb Hanie to compete for the job next year.

4. I was driving Saturday with my daughter, Haleigh.  We heard an Elton John song on the radio. On a whim, I asked her to download “Empty Garden” on to my iPhone—a song I had not heard in years. The song is a lament of the assassination of John Lennon. The lyrics are by Bernie Taupin, but the song expresses Elton John’s sentiments. John had a special relationship with Lennon. The song carries a haunting melody, and I think it is powerful.

5. Saturday marked a tragic milestone. On January 22, 1973, the U. S. Supreme Court issued its Roe v. Wade ruling. I’m not lawyer, but I learned something playing golf that illustrates why I feel comfortable to comment.

            In golf, there are times you lose your ball, and you cannot find it. Your playing partner, however, can approach from across the fairway and walk right up to your ball. You are too caught up in the morass of grass, leaves on the ground, and trees to see it.

            Allow me to “approach from across the fairway” and spot something our judicial system cannot see. Roe v. Wade is the most contrived ruling in the history of the Supreme Court. Not intending to pun, Harry Blackmun legalistically manufactured an argument to fulfill his wish, and the wish of many others. That wish was wrong; civilization is crippled for these efforts.