My Colonoscopy: A Love Story

Caution: Do no read this, unless you have the sense of humor of a 12-year-old.  Also, every word of this is true:

I had to get my butthole snaked and probed.  I had some gut issues, and they wanted to make sure everything was okay.  Spoiler: It’s all fine.  But one of the gifts of middle age is that your asshole is no longer a private matter.  The doctor is always, “how’s the asshole Mr. Lyngar? Is your cock working okay?” and “why are you so fat?”  I am paraphrasing, but these are the questions one must answer as routine after hitting 40 or so. 

One day, “ol’ reliable” wasn’t up to snuff, so off to the asshole doctor, I go.

They are all super nice and friendly. Too friendly, maybe.  They always have a story about least invasive, non-painful, etc. But it’s telling that they insist on knocking you the hell out before molesting you.  If they tell you to sleep through the anal torture, you can be sure that something is amiss back there.

One friend of mine, we’ll call “Rob,” has a broken asshole so has to get these on a regular basis. He has some story about his asshole is so pristine that they must use the pediatric scope on him.

However, my other buddy, who is a real life doctor told me this:
The Handbook of Patient Care, Page #453, Paragraph #3, beginning at sentence #2: “Reassure repeat customers for colonoscopies that ‘we’re totally going to use the pediatric scope’. Have your youngest and friendliest member of the endoscopy suite designated as ‘pediatric scope lie’ guy, and ensure he or she rigorously performs this duty without fail.”

This is the story doctors tell, but after you’re asleep, they duct tape a “go pro” to end of a garden hose and get two strong men to ram it on home.

The best part of the procedure is waking up.  I felt almost drunk from the drugs, and a pretty nurse walks in and says. “I need you to fart, Mr. Lyngar.”

I had waited my whole life for someone to ask me that.  After giving the walls a good shake, I am fairly certain that cloud is still hanging over Sacramento somewhere.

“Very good!”  the nurse said.

I beamed.

She came back a few minutes later.  “One more time?” she asked.  Again, there have been few times in my life, I’ve been asked to do something that I was so very qualified to do.  It felt like my birthday.

After a second rumble, my (poor, sweet) wife, Joy, helped me get dressed and I staggered to the car.  On the way home Joy bought me a giant cheeseburger, because I’d been fasting (which does suck).  I sat on the couch watching television the rest of the day.

As a grown man, you don’t get many days as good as that.  For all the hassle and embarrassment, a colonoscopy isn’t the worst thing to happen to a guy, even in average month.

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11 thoughts on “My Colonoscopy: A Love Story”

  1. Very entertaining, especially since I recently went through the same thing. I eagerly await your tale of the preparation phase. (Mine includes a visit from Rescue Rooter because I plugged up the sewer line with too much Charmin.) Meanwhile, may I suggest using the objective case in the quote from the handbook, “…ensure him or her,” instead of “he or she”? And in the next sentence, I’d like to see “GoPro” the way the manufacturers named it. There’s also a missing “the” in the same phrase before “end of a garden hose.” Thanks for humoring a grammar fanatic.

  2. *slow clap* Brilliant.

    I woke up in the middle of my colonoscopy. I strongly recommend against that.

    …waking up, I mean. The colonoscopy is necesssary, but so is remaining unconscious. I’d also advise against trying to get up in the middle of the procedure. They’ll only fill you will more drugs as you struggle to utter a muddy protest of “Wait! Don’t!”

    My butthole’s totally fine, btw.

      1. It wasn’t all that bad. For the first minute or so, I thought I had woken up at home after the procedure. I felt a little bloated but pretty comfortable so I just laid there*. I could see a screen (with images that turned out to be the inside off my ass) but figured I was watching Discovery Health – not an unusual thing for me to watch*.

        After a few minutes, I felt hungry and remembered, “Butt-stuff is over and I’m back home! That means the fast is over! I want a sandwich! That’s when I tried to get up from the couch (table) and go to the kitchen (hallway) to make a sandwich (probably fondle a security guard).

        I never made it past raising myself up on my arm and starting to swing my legs off the table. I felt hands come out of nowhere and grab my legs and – BOOM – suddenly I was in a hospital with something in my ass. Naturally, I struggled against the unseen hands, albeit very weakly. I was conscious but nonetheless drugged. Still, I resisted and my imagined cries of righteous and poetic self-encouragement were translated by my lips as:

        “Whoa waaiit. Waaait dontuch me. Donchu tuhsh me. Waaaaiy. Nooo! Dooooooant!”

        A nurse put and end to all my sloppy mumbling with the application of a syringe full of night-night juice to my IV. The last thing I remember was the nurse making wary yet self-assured eye contact with me, as if she knew that she had vanquished me, but only for now, and that might rise again. I had an instant to hope I wouldn’t get molested and, remembering that a man was currently piloting a giant hose directly up my ass, I would have laughed.

        But nope. Oblivion.

        Later, there were sandwiches – MANY sandwiches. But that story has nothing to do with my butt. Not until the end anyway.

        GET IT?! END?!?! *rim shot!*


        *clears throat* …yeah

        …I’ll just show myself out.

  3. And there was me thinking the one-finger exam was bad enough! Thank you for your very graphic commentary – I shall pray I never need the camera!

  4. I’m 55 and in my 20’s they didn’t give general anesthesia for colonoscopies. Nope, just some oral medication to “relax you” then if you were lucky you’d pass out (or be hit in the head by a blunt price of medical equipment). I’m still in therapy. The memories that have surfaced over the years from the experience are disjointed but vivid. One favorite was them craming it in while a nurse yelled: “Don’t move – just relax-DON’T MOVE – JUST R E L A X – R E LA X !!!!!!!”

    1. Yeah, been there, done that during the colonoscopy.

      Even better was waking up while they were removing screws from my leg bones (external fixture for a compound fracture).
      Having low blood pressure, they tend to not administer as much anesthetic because they don’t want my heart to stop.
      Ironically, surgery was the only good sleep I’ve had (wake up feeling rested).

  5. Yeah. The colonoscopy is a party compared to a biopsy procedure by Dr. Satan.
    You get to graduate to the GoPro, an air compressor and a spear thrower: all at the same time.
    Oh…and you’re awake and bleeding for a month (from multiple orifices and bodily functions).
    They REALLY lie about that part, and your ass is never the same.
    I was lucky. It turned out to be “inflammation”.
    Anyone ever follow up about why I have inflammation issues?
    Human beings are toys to doctors.
    They practice on you. They don’t fix you.
    That’s why the USDA and the FDA are separate agencies: the food people don’t want anything to do with your health and the health people don’t want anything to do with your food.
    You are what you eat, except to a doctor: then you are what they want to play with.

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