Tomorrow I’m getting my first colonoscopy and for as much trouble as it was to schedule, once I was finally in the hands of a doctor’s office who accepted my insurance and had an open appointment, things have gone swiftly. It took forever, but suddenly the day is almost here and I sweep back and forth between dreading it and being relaxed about it, almost as fast as I’m sweeping from slugging down this godawful solution and the bathroom.
I have five minutes before I go slug another 8oz of a fluid that may actually put me off citrus for quite some time.
Plenty of people tell me that this is the worst part. Or maybe the worst part will be the cold of the doctor’s office. Or the needle prick for the IV. But – the thing I can’t stop thinking about is the sheer edge of panic that comes with the idea of being put under for the operation. I get it – it’d be unpleasant to do conscious (though my hawt Russian doctor did mention that most countries DON’T put their patients to sleep for the procedure) – but I just have the snap panic feeling of something trying to take consciousness from me. I get that panic response to Nyquil sometimes, and the sluggish pump of adrenaline fighting against the soporifics of that or of Advil PM or whatever, creates one of the most nightmarish mental states I’ve ever been in. My body FIGHTS to stay awake like it’s fighting to stay alive and though I’ve been assured that “oh, no… you can’t fight this, you just relax immediately” that is not as comforting as such comforts are perhaps intended to be.
I’ve always been obsessed with last-moment panics. And I’m panicked over the idea of this feeling just like that. I’m not ready to go. I’ve got shit to do.
Speaking of which… I’m glad I’ve got my OWN bathroom.