Want a Colonoscopy?

Disclaimer!!! This blog post was approved by my husband before it was posted...I do not want you to think I'd post this without his approval.

And now...   Want a Colonoscopy?

I mean, I'm sure you have heard of them.  Know what they are.  Plan to avoid them at all costs.

Well, my husband couldn't.

He'd been feeling a bit ill and found blood in the toilet - okay, a lot ill because he went to the doctor's and he never does that - and they sent him to see the specialist who said, "Well, young man, I think you should go for a colonoscopy.  And an endoscopy."

He nearly skipped out of the doctor's office he was so excited.

Obviously, I am being sarcastic.

I have to admit, as I snuggled next to my husband that night I felt like we were old for the first time.  I was suddenly worried about his health and these procedures just made me feel like we were suddenly old.  Like, skipped way past middle age old.  Our grandparents did things like this, not us, right?

He's only 38.

The day before the procedure my nervous hubby went to work.  There was no way he was going to stick around the house and dread the time of the night he would have to drink the nasty awful drink.

The pharmacist had told me that my husband, the big 6 foot 3 inch guy that he is, was going to fall hard taking this stuff.  To say I was a nervous girl would be an understatement...but I was being all cheerful and happy to be as supportive as possible.

I did supportive things like make tuna noodle casserole for the boys and I.  Jake despises tuna noodle casserole, that's the most loving thing I could have done for him.  Had I made t-bone steaks, he would have strangled me.

He couldn't eat a thing all day but jello.  Jake's not a big fan of jello.  And when he began to drink the nasty awful stuff, he gagged like it was the nasty awful stuff he feared it would be.

This was the part of the procedure he was dreading the most, he knew he'd be knocked out and not remember what happened to him the next day.

When he began to drink the awful nasty drink, it was like watching someone and waiting for them to just morph into the sick person you knew they would become.  I had flashbacks to being pregnant and people watching me just assuming that baby was gonna drop out of me at any moment.

He drank one glass.  Ten minutes later (after he added the lemon lime flavor) he drank another glass.  He was pouring the third glass when he ran for the bathroom.

Our only bathroom.

This is when I sent the boys to bed.

And he didn't leave the bathroom for a good long time.

This is what he had been dreading...the cleaning you completely out part...but it surprisingly went better than he thought it would.

The next morning I was armed with books and a lunch for a four hour wait as my husband drove to the appointment.  He was as nervous as could be...even if he said he wasn't.

The nurse we had first was friendly and chatty and discussed what would happen and so on and so forth.  She handed him a gown and asked him to change.  He went into the bathroom and came out looking unlike anything I have seen him look.  He needed me to tie up the back and I may have teased him a bit about this, keeping things light and all.

Then they gave him an iv.

My husband cannot even stand to watch tv when they show needles and iv's.  His big strong legs came right up in the chair, a fetal position he was attempting to take, as they stuck that needle in his vein.  But she got it in right away and all was well.  I'm pretty sure the front desk got a view of the family jewels.

It was then they walked my husband back toward the surgery room.

And there he went, my big strapping husband, the one whom I depend upon. The protector of myself and the boys, walking away in a hospital gown.

I went back to the waiting room and downed a cup of the nasty office coffee, a whole water bottle and a no bake cookie.  I'd been afraid to eat or drink in front of Jake and was famished and parched.

After sending out some texts, I settled in to read one of the three books I had grabbed, not minding at all that I had some quiet time alone. Before I could even finish one chapter, they were calling me back to tell me he was done.

They looked at me a little odd with my bag full of lunch and books but I had thought I was there alone for four hours.  Not that I minded.

My husband was asleep, but when I sat down he turned and winked at me.  The doctor came up and to talk to us.  They had found a polyp - which was very surprising to him - and removed it.  But it was Jake's esophagus they were concerned about, it was torn up badly from his constant heartburn he has been struggling with.  

Jake was looking at the doctor but it was obvious he had no idea what he was saying.  He kept asking him if he could drink gallons of coffee.  Then he'd ask if he did a good job with the cleaning out.  Then he'd ask if he could have gallons of coffee again.  Then he'd ask if they took all the cancer out (obviously, he was more worried then he had let on).  Then he'd ask again if he could have gallons of coffee.

No gallons of coffee for him. Not for a very long time, if ever.

The idea is so preposterous to him that apparently he could not grasp the idea.

Him with no coffee?

Even I cannot grasp the image.

The doctor smiled sympathetically and told me I was in for a long day.

My husband laid back in the bed, arched his back, and let out the loudest fart I had heard him let out.  As he farted, he groaned a groan no grown man should moan in public.  "Oh, that's good.  That's really good," he moaned.

And then he winked at me.

With that, he fell asleep - sorta - until he farted and the moaning and groaning began again.

The older man across from me who was sitting with his wife began to chuckle.

A nurse came in to give him some food.  He chose a turkey sandwich and the nurse carefully squeezed out some mayonnaise for him.  Just a few thin slices of turkey on wheat bread (which he hates) and a bit of mayo.  The man thought he was eating food from heaven.  "This is the best turkey sandwich I have ever eaten," he said between rolled back eye moments of delight.  He sucked the orange juice they gave him dry with the straw, making loud sucking noises.

And then he farted some more.

A new nurse came in and looked over his chart again.  "We can go home now, right?" Jake asked.

"Well, how are you feeling?"

"Great!" He declared.

So she told him he could leave.  He immediately stood up and whipped the hospital gown right off of him.

And there stood my husband, naked as could be, in the middle of the six bed recovery room.  The nurse whipped that curtain shut so fast it about made my head spin. I pulled out Jake's clothes and handed him his underwear (grundies, as he calls them) and he stared a good long time at them.

It was apparent that I was going to have the dress him.

"I'm feeling great!" he told me as I tapped the leg he needed to lift.  "Really great."

I pulled his shirts over his head.  He couldn't find the arm holes.

"Did the doctor come in here?"

"Yup",  I answered as I pulled up his jeans.

"He said I could drink gallons of coffee now, right?"

"Um, not really...."

He began to weave a bit.  He sat down on the bed and was back asleep faster than I could imagine a person could fall asleep.

He even snored.

The nurse peeked in the curtain a few minutes later, avoiding a glance in my husband's direction.  "How are we doing in here?" she asked cheerily.

"He's dressed," I said simply.

"Oh good!" she blushed.  She then asked him if he felt well enough to leave and he was up and ready to go.  He stood up fast, wobbled a bit, took my arm and waved farewell.

He was still in his socks.  The nurse asked how he was going to walk to the vehicle in his socks and I could tell, the thought had not occurred to him.  The man wanted out of there!

We walked into the waiting room, where our coats and his boots were.  My six foot three husband said in his booming voice to the two men sitting there drinking the bad coffee and watching worse t.v., "You do NOT want to go in there!"

Seeing they had a good one to tease, the men chucked and mentioned they'd been eyeing his blingy black cowboy boots, they wanted to know if he was going to go eat a good meal now and they wished him well on his way out the door.

The men and I had a good chuckle.

As we walked out the door, Jake began to pat his butt until he pulled out his wallet.  He opened it, looked inside at the money and then put it in another pocket.  Then he began to check his back pocket for his wallet and panickingly pat his body to feel his wallet.  "Did you take my wallet?" he asked.

He found it, checked the money, put it in another pocket and then he started all over again, searching, asking me for it, finding it, looking at the money and moving it to another pocket.

By the time we got to Wendy's - his choice for a first meal - I picked his wallet out of his hand and said, "See your wallet, honey?  See me putting it in my purse?  See how it's safe? Okay?"

He nodded.

Then he asked me if I was going to take all his money.

As I helped him across the parking lot, I had an image of us growing old together.

It'd be a new blog.

We went in to get the meal where he waved to an elderly couple we know from church.  He then began to sway in line and repeat himself over and over and I am quite certain that the people in line thought he was drunk.  He chowed his food down, declaring it to be the best meal he's ever eaten, and we headed home.

When I stopped for gas, I took the keys out.  I was afraid he'd forget where we were and leave me.

We arrived home nearly three hours after leaving, and I tucked him into bed where he slept for just over six hours.  When he woke up, he didn't recall anything but the turkey sandwich and the dinner at Wendy's.

To celebrate his survival of his first colonoscopy the next day, he grilled t-bone steaks.

All in all, he is glad he had the colonoscopy and endoscopy.  The blood turned out to be hemorrhoids, and just so you know, we all have them (the doctor told us so).  Sometimes they just flare up and are bad,  as they were with Jake that week.  With proper medication the doctor feels the badly damaged esophagus will heal...as long as he stays away from triggers that cause him heartburn.  As for the polyp, it was nothing...but he will have to go back in five years to just make sure all is still well.  And then we'll go through this all over again.

Because he's the love of my life.

He has a lot to live for - and we want him healthy for the adventure our life is.