I needed a colonoscopy because something was biting me from the inside down there, and it wasn’t getting any better. And it prolapsed during No. 2 — every single time. 🙄
And it hurt. After the prolapse, the thing had to be pushed back, and this thing felt like a stab (by a piece of glass) as soon as I touched it. So it needed no genius to conclude that the thing was bad. (Unfortunately, when it comes to my own private everyday life, I might forget to be a genius from time to time.)
So yeah, I needed a colonoscopy rather sooner than later (although I waited for more than 10 full years before changing my mind, or better: thinking about it).
The embarrassing moment came when they wheeled me into the OR — me, hoping that my life was about to change — and I suddenly realized that I personally knew the entire OR staff. And that I was butt naked under my tiny hospital gown. 🙄🙄
One nurse (whom I knew really well) couldn’t suppress an unobtrusive smirks. (I bravely ignored her, realizing all too well that my case would be one for the books.)
But they did identify the pre-cancerous gigantic necrotic mushroom-like polyp in my rectum, and later removed it through minor surgery. And yes, some of the smirks recurred at social events and I kept seeing images of myself lying asleep on the OR table, naked underneath and what have you.
But ten years of pain had passed — ten years of almost fainting, of almost crying tears after every single bathroom visit (and I have IBS 🙄🙄🙄), of bloody toilet bowls and pushing back prolapses in the most dire circumstances —
And all of that was gone.
SOURCES: Getty images.