Ooooohhh!

[LordUhtred]

So. Having survived the joys of a hip replacement, I was "invited" to participate in the bowel screening programme. Oh, dear God, that means I am officially OLD...

I dutifully smeared the six windows of my test kit over the specified three days, and sent the evil conglomeration off to be tested. (Quick thought - surely there must be a law against sending the contents of ones bowels through the post? If not then Health and Safety rules are being stretched to breaking point. And, which poor sod has the job of opening all these fetid envelopes? Bet he has the word "Manager" in his job title, tho...).

Anyway, I get the not too encouraging response of "There may be abnormalities in your sample. Please complete another", complete with a second kit. Deep joy, what fun it is going through this procedure again... This time, the results come back as "Get your fat lazy backside into the hospital because a full nvestigation is required". Morale has now reached rock bottom and started to dig...

I dutifully comply with the preparation instructions - low residue diet three days, then fasting for the day before the "Procedure". This includes two doses of the evil laxative Moviprep (should anyone ever offer you a dose, politely refuse, then run, don't walk, away. And never speak to them again). Sadly, the foul brew fails to work as advertised, the liquid explosive event prophesied fails to materialise. With the result that when I attend the hospital the following morning, the procedure is started, then quickly aborted, because the bowels aren't empty, which makes it difficult for the camera to see anything. Can't think why, myself. Anyway, result is - total rexcrub, try again in a fortnight. To add insult to injury, the damn laxative started to work as soon as I got home, and I spent the next three days in the smallest room.

Try the second. Preparation as before, except a second laxative was included. To be taken for about a week prior to the event. Nearly as foul tasting as the Moviprep. Which I still had to take the day before. However, my body was now aware of the taste and effects of this deadly poison, with the result that I started projectile vomiting whilst actually drinking the second dose. This continued into the next day, so sadly (or not...) I had to ring the hospital and cancel. Second rescrub.

I was supplied with a different laxative (now many are there, anyway?), and it was off on the process for the third time. Low residue diet, fasting the day before, and taking my medicine. The body was taken by surprise by a new chemical, so I managed to swallow the stuff . It kind of worked. There was some motion, but not the earth shaking event I had expected. Which brings us to this morning.

I rock up at the hospital, prepared (I thought) for what was to come. Called in to the unit, given the obligatory back to front gown, supplemented with a pair of very unflattering shorts, with the fly opening at the rear. Classy! Then into the mini theatre for the main event. First, grease, or some artificial substitute, was liberally applied. Then a red hot poker was inserted into my rear end. I had opted for gas and air rather than an intravenous sedative, so several large intakes of breath and chemical. The poker seemed to cool a little (still burning, tho!) and the camera was on its merry way. Just on the edge of my vision was a small tv screen showing what the camera was seeing. This encouraged me to close my eyes. Turns out this dose of laxative worked a bit, but not fully. So Torquemada, who was actually inserting the tail of the devil into my body, could see some, but not all, of my insides. The nurse who had the responsibility for stopping me from throwing myself from the bed of nails I was lying on and running screaming out the door tried to distract me by making small talk. I can say with confidence that small talk is no match for having a red hot poker inserted into your rear end.

As the camera progressed upward, a second nurse had to apply pressure to various parts of my abdomen, in order to let it negotiate some tight corners. This was about the point where I politely suggested that they seemed to have reached my tonsils, so could we stop now, please? Note to self - when someone is doing unspeakable things to your rear end, do NOT make them laugh, cos their hands shake... However, a "small polyp" was found and removed. This has been sent off for tests.

And then it ended. Like banging your head on the wall, it is wonderful when it stops. I was wheeled into the recovery room, mainly to let the huge quantity of gas and air I had breathed in dissipate. To be joined by the senior of the nurses who had been in the procedure room. "We need to investigate further, because we couldn't see everything". My sobs and whimpers seemed to convince her that repeating the procedure wasn't really high on my list of priorities for the near future, because she continued with "so we are going to arrange for a CAT scan. I will let you know the date and time tomorrow".

Finally, a cup of coffee and a biscuit (I hadn't eaten for 30 hours, remember) and I was off. On balance, I would rather undergo another hip replacement than do this again. But of course, the screening programme comes round every few years...

So, I am now sitting on a very soft cushion, trying to work out how to give my bum the TLC in needs and deserves!

[scotia]

Don't worry - I know the bowel screening kit is a rather questionable birthday present (every two years), but it stops after age 75.
And I can only assure you that the laxative they supplied me with before a rectal examination some years ago (X-ray rather than camera) was extremely effective. So much so that I sat in a room about 10 yards from the toilet , and even then it was a close run thing. Running being the operative word.

[LordUhtred]

Well, I have to admit the laxatives DID actually work very well - sadly not until after I got home. Which was actually the last thing my poor, tormented bum needs...