No. The colonoscopy didn’t make me cry. Well, it did, not that’s not what I’m referring to. I’m referring to Marley. The movie that had me laughing and loving until I was clutching my child to my chest crying hysterically because Marely is Everydog. He is the non-trained, lovable, real family pet. And he died. Seriously people. Break my heart. But it was a good catharsis.
So the day of the big test. The prep yesterday went fine. There was lots of…uh…well, we’ll skip the description. Let’s just say it sucked. And then I was very, very sick. When I was officially empty of everything in my body I started throwing up. Fun, huh? The Gatorade gave me KILLER heartburn, and I was shivery and sad and scared. About 8:30pm John looked at me and asked, “Do you want me to call work and stay home with you?” At which I put on my brave face, which apparently turned out to be a crying “please please stay home and take care of me” face, and that’s what he did. He called in and told them what was up, and I have to give them some credit…because they said, “Hope to see you tomorrow.” And that was it, no hassle.
Cut to the night that I slept through. From 10ish pm to 8:30ish am. Yes. It was amazing, even if I was hungry and shaky.
When we went into the procedure I was weak from the no-food day, 7 lbs. lighter than the day before (I’m pretty sure that’s going to come back) and a little overwhelmed. The nurses were very, very nice to me. One even hugged me. Another one said I looked pale. (Um, yeah. HAVEN’T EATEN. They promised me a muffin at the end.) I went in for the procedure, and that’s when things got confusing. I was definitely awake, I was definitely talking…although now I wonder what I was talking ABOUT exactly. After they gave me something through my IV and said that soon I wouldn’t care what was going on. I DID care. I could see everything on the monitor. I remember the nurse telling me to squeeze her hand if it hurt. I kind of remember it hurting, and I don’t remember the walk from the procedure room back to the recovery area.
I do remember asking my doctor how he was and having him say, “Better now that I’ve seen you. You are a very refreshing patient.” Which made me feel happy inside. I wondered what that meant, exactly, but as I pondered it I came to the conclustion that my absolute willingness to do what they said, gratitude for everything they did, and the relief (even happy tears) when he perscribed me medication at the end, might not be the norm. The woman in the bed next to me couldn’t stop complaining about the tape on her skin or the fact that they better put her out all the way, because she doesn’t do this stuff awake yada yada yada. I was more on the, “you are the first people in over a year to actually do something to fix the problem that has tried to take over my life” side of the fence. I would have done that procedure in the parking lots sans special IV happy juice if necessary. Ok, maybe not. But I was feeling pretty skinny today, so maybe so.
I got home, and John ran off to get my meds, and even though he desperately needed to go to bed, picked up movies for me to watch. Because he’s an amazing husband. I try to make it up to him by making him lunch to take to work, but I don’t think Peanut Butter and Jelly can compare to the feeling I got last night as he tucked me in and told me to sleep (which I did, for HOURS), took care of our baby all night, and went with me to the procedure. He got some sleep this afternoon, but will probably still be dragging tomorrow.
I’m also waaay grateful for my Mom. I love being able to leave Bubby NOT with a babysitter, but with my Mom. When I got home he was so happy, he had been outside, ate lots of good food, and has even learned a new sound! A mouth-wipe-open YA YA YA type sound.
I was trying to rest this afternoon, the nurse told me to be careful holding Camper, but I heard him laughing downstairs and couldn’t stay away. I was lucky enough to have a break in the “ew” last night to be able to rock him to bed, but since then I hadn’t seen him for more than a few minutes. I went downstairs and played, then my Mom rocked him to sleep, and when he woke up he was my cuddly baby extraordinaire. He was looking right at me, as if amazed that I was back, cooing and smiling, and it was easy to make him laugh. Then I rocked him to sleep with his hand on my heart and realized, for the second time in my life that you can love someone so much that it hurts.
And now I’m tired. Goodnight.
after taking four of these (wonderful bisacodyl pills):
