Colonoscopy and flashbacks

Someone told me that Gandhi had a colon cleanse every three months. Well good for him! I did not feel like being Gandhi. I had to empty my colon for another colonoscopy.

I have been down this road before. Prepare for a colonoscopy, find the right doctor and the right medications, empty out my digestive system, sign paperwork, find a driver, hope there is no more cancer.

Some friends ask my advice about getting a colonoscopy. I seem to be the colonoscopy poster child. I promote the colonoscopy procedure to help get colon cancer diagnosed early so we can save lives. I urge my friends and family to go do it. Some friends delay getting a colonoscopy for years. When they see me in the hall at work they assure me that they are going to get it real soon. Right.

My first colonoscopy in 2003 I did the entire procedure alone. I did the prep alone at home. I drove myself. When I got my diagnosis of colon cancer I was alone driving home. I was in shock and panic from my news and coming out of anthesia and driving home was stupid.

Four years later, 2007, I do things differently. Now I ask for help and support during this procedure.

The 2007 preparation for my procedure was different than 2003. My doctor’s instructions were much more detailed for my colon cleansing. Three days before the scope I maintained a low fiber diet. No fruits, no vegetables and no bran cereals. I was familiar with this diet. After my abdominal resection this same low fiber diet helped me gain strength and recover.

When I was on this low fiber diet for three days in 2007, I triggered memories of my cancer diagnosis of 2003. Triggers of panic. Triggered memories that I was going to die. These triggers are less powerful since I can observe them from a distance.

I talked about this triggered experience with my girlfriend and close friends. Thanksgiving is a reminder and trigger of recovering from cancer surgery three years ago. The turkey and mashed potatoes are easy to digest. Comfort food that I have always enjoyed. As a youngster Thanksgiving was associated with big family gatherings and yummy food. Now turkey is associated with recovery food and healing from cancer treatments.

The day before my recent colonoscopy in 2007 I was on the clear liquid diet. Jell-O, clear juices, tea, broth and 7up. I was at work doing this colon cleansing and I was very spaced out. This reminded me of past chemo brain. My mind was not as sharp. I wasn’t drinking coffee.

What was that password to log into the network? I thought to myself. My mind floated like chemo brain at work. I sipped mint tea and craved coffee for mental calrity.

Marsha appearsed at my cubical and waitsed to get my attention. I stopped my paperwork and asked, “How are you Marsha?”

“Do you have a moment, Doug? I have a question. I did not know who else to ask.”

It was clear this question was not work related.

“Of course I have a minute, how can I help you Marsha?” I replied and spun my chair around to face her.

“Yergal has been out sick. He has cancer in his stomach. He is going into chemo treatments in December and I wanted to know what I could do for him to help.” Her words tumbled out of her mouth quickly. She almost whispered the story.

I paused a moment to collect my thoughts. My mind was floating along from the liquid diet food fast. I call this brain functioning “swiss cheese” thinking because there were holes in my memory where data was stored but I can’t access it. I told Marsha I was getting ready for my colonoscopy and was replaying some emotions from the past. Then I gave her some ideas of what she could do to support Yergal in his treatment process.

Emotional roulette.
That is what this experience felt like. A different feeling stuffed into each bullet chamber. Spin the gun chamber. Pull the trigger. Another emotion explodes in my brain. Most of the time I am quite happy and positive about life. When I go for cancer testing the emotional roulette process may pull an emotional trigger:

1. Panic- I am going to die.
2. Loneliness- I will be abandoned if I get sick again.
3. Rage- The health care system will over charge for my treatment and my health insurance will not cover all my treatments.
4. Sadness- another friend has died from Cancer.
5. Helplessness – There is nothing I can do about this disease.
6. Confusion- what is going on? Who can I trust? Do I have chemo brain again?

“Are you ready?” Chris asked me on the phone. He was my driver to the surgery center for my colonoscopy. I grabbed my folder with medical information, my keys, my wallet and my cell phone.

“Ready” I reply, hung up the phone. locked the door, called the elevator to the sixth floor.

Come on, Come on. I thought to myself. Never patient for elevators. Finally I left the building and climbed into Chris’s car with my map in hand. I was so glad to see Chris to drive me to my colonoscopy.

“How you doing? Chris asked as he snuck through a red light and positioned himself in the left hand turn lane in the next block. The engine in his old car sounded like hyperactive squirrels tap-dancing under the hood. I hope I don't have to walk home because he car doesn't work. The least of my problems.

“Pretty good.” I answered with all the confidence I could muster. Chris knew some of the details about the prep and the colon cleansing.

He called Lorraine that morning and made plans to hike and play music. Lorraine called my cell phone right after talking to Chris. She was very understanding and supportive. I was able to talk again about my triggered feelings about my colonoscopy as I shopped for food. My procedure was scheduled for noon. I made use of the morning to do some chores and kept busy rather than fret at home.

My cell phone vibrated. I missed call. I dialed to retrieve the message. My oncology nurse friend Corrinde left a message with advice about what food to eat after my procedure. She advised me to go slow with re-entry with my gym routine. We both go the Y aerobics class and know that it is easy to over do a workout during group exercise. I called her back to thank her for her support.

We drove for 2 more minutes to our destination. Chris pulls the car over to the curb. I left my cell phone with him. He does not own one. I thanked him for the ride. He drove away. I am alone again. I crossed the street and entered the beautiful old building. I entered the waiting room, signed in, and signed away all rights without reading the fine print. Saved a copy for my own file folder. I payed the co-pay with my VISA card then sat down and looked at the waiting room magazines.

I could choose from People magazine or Outside magazine. (I wished I brought a book to read). Instead I looked at ads for $399 ski pants and beer ads and articles about how to survive being attacked by a shark. Fun reading before a colonoscopy?

“Mr. Beckstein?” a cheery young nurse called my name. “Would you please follow me?”

I was glad to leave the waiting room with the music of R & B Oldies playing thru a speaker that sounded like a 1965 transistor radio. Again not very relaxing for this patient.

The cheery nurse walked me twenty feet to a interview room and turned me over to the older nurse named “Angela”. She reviewed my chart and asked all the routine questions for my health history. I had to pull out some data from my own file folder to answer some of her questions.

She escorted me to the next room where I was prepared for "the scope". I put on flesh colored booties and a hospital gown. Blood pressure check, temperature in the ear, warm blanket then the nurse started an IV in my hand. She asked if I needed a magazine to read. I declined. She pulled the curtain and hid my gurney and attended to another patient.

More waiting. I noticed that I was calm and ready to get this done. Twenty minutes later I entered the procedure room. I greeted the doctor and noticed he had good taste in music. The nurse asked me to roll over on my side and bend my knees. The doctor told her the dose of medication and she plugged a needle into the IV rig in my hand and then I faded to a light sleep.

...fade to black...

Thirty minutes later I opened my eyes in the recovery room. The nurse asked me if I could drink a paper cup of water. I asked for a refill.

“Here are the results of your test Mr. Beckstein.” The nurse handed me a printed report with numerous color photographs of my colon.

No cancer. My colon was clean. No evidence of re-occurring disease. This is very good news!

I signed a piece of paper that verified that I got the report. Ten minutes later I left the building a free man.

A man free of cancer.