Hey guess what I did! I just learnt how to import all of my old archives from my old blog to this one! Hot dayum! It took me a long time to figure that out. No one said that I’m a genius, okay?
To celebrate this amazing discovery, here is the blog post from May 16, 2011. Happy reading!
So yesterday was my endoscopy, and I survived! I did not stop breathing, or die in the midst of the procedure, and I don’t believe I threw up, because I don’t remember anything. By all accounts, I was out. I had to go through so many medical personnel to be guaranteed that I was indeed going to be asleep. Everyone kept saying, “you’ll be comfortable, but responsive,” or “Girl, you’ll be ZONKED.” Finally, when I was getting fed up with not getting the answer I wanted, the Doctor himself finally said “You’ll be asleep, worry not, I take care of my patients.” And I felt better, though not by much, as he was still going to be shoving a camera DOWN MY THROAT.
The entire day before I got myself so worked, I couldn’t eat. Aside from a “last meal” from Chick-Fil-A at around noon, I was not able to stomach much of anything. And everything kept…running it’s way through me. What? I have a nervous colon. It happens. I know I’m not the only one. By the end of the night I couldn’t sit still without freaking out. I took Phenergan to calm my stomach and help me stay asleep.
When I awoke the next morning, I was dehydrated (since I hadn’t consumed much the day before, and had to fast after midnight) and was still a wreck. I told Vance I wasn’t going, and Vance turned green and told me he didn’t take a day off from work for nothing, and I was at the very least going down there to tell them I wasn’t going to do it. So I got dressed with the intention of letting them know I wasn’t going through with it. Sort of. Telling myself I wasn’t going to do it was the only thing that kept me at all together.
When I arrived at the office, I tearfully told the receptionist I needed convincing before signing the consent forms. They took me back, and they let Vance stay with me, so that I could meet the nurses and be shown around. The nurse was an expert at handling resistant, fearful patients like me, cause she soon had me laughing and in a gown with an IV in my arm. She was good.
I knew I had to do it, I knew I was going to do it, I was just waiting for something to come along to give me reason to delay it. Like, if the medical personnel had been rude, I would have just said “fuck it” and left and found another Doctor. But obviously that wasn’t a problem. I was never given a reason to back out, so I sucked it up, and I stayed.
The wait to go back took FOREVER. I had to get fluids because I needed to give a urine sample, and I was dry as a damn bone. I had nothing, so I had to get 2 bags of fluid before I could produce the 2 drops needed for a pregnancy test. The nurse wanted to give me my Fentanyl early so I could become loopy and loosen up, and all it did was make me foggy and nauseous. And they wouldn’t give me anything for nausea until I got in the procedure room, so I laid there, angry and sick.
So they finally wheeled me into the procedure room. Vance took my glasses, and I whimpered the entire way. It was like the walk to the gallows. The room was all dark, and there was this weird sound coming out of something that sounded like a tire with a severe leak. They had me lay on my left side and they put nasal cannula in my nose. Then the nurse said she was giving me something in my IV, and then they stuck with metal tube thing in my mouth, and tied it to my face like it was a ball gag…
And that is the last I remember. I woke up in the recovery area, and Vance was there, and he gave me some water to drink. Apparently I was so out of it when they brought me into recovery, anytime anyone would try to wake me up, I would give them a look like,”go the fuck away.” Sounds about right. I am not a morning person.
The Doctor spoke to Vance about the endoscopy, and showed him pictures of my insides. I have gastritis and 2 stress ulcers. STRESS ulcers. I have to wonder if the anxiety about the procedure could have caused any of this.
So the good news is it wasn’t in vain. The bad news is that I am putting myself through so much pressure, it’s actually hurting my body. Who would have thought being an overly-anxious, uber-neurotic, perfectionist mom/housewife/student was harmful!
I vaguely remember getting dressed, going to the waiting area to pay the bill, and then being denied the free coffee. I’m not supposed to have coffee apparently. I do remember the trip to Jack In The Box to get a breakfast plate with a cup of coffee. I wasn’t really able to eat any of the food. Then I slept most of the day. My stomach is still pretty raw from the combo of the epic anxiety, the not eating, the drugs, oh, and the OPEN SORES in my stomach.
So I’m glad I did it. I’m not going to sit here and belittle my fears leading up to the procedure, though I still wish I hadn’t been THAT anxious. I made myself sick over it, but the concerns were valid. I had never been through anything like that, never been put under sedation, so there was something to be weary of. I’m not going to tell you that it’s nothing, and there is nothing to be afraid of. I am going to tell you my experience was smooth sailing and I am less afraid of doing it again.
So that was my upper endoscopy experience. Now I must embark on my journey down the road to healing.
This has to got to be the most insane week I have encountered in a very long time. This is the very last week of the Spring semester, and since I did absolutely no studying last week, I am severely behind. The final is on Friday, and my last paper is due on Sunday. Thank goodness she’s giving us until Sunday. But there is something somewhat-major-but-possibly-nothing-at-all happening on Thursday that could throw things a bit out of whack.
I’m getting an Upper Endoscopy on Thursday morning. GEEEHHHHH *Shudder*
For those of you who don’t know or didn’t click the link, an Upper Endoscopy is where they stick a camera attached to a long, bendy stick down your throat and down past your stomach to check for different diseases. It’s usually used to confirm Celiac, or GERD, or check for and repair polyps. In my case it’s get to the bottom of my chronic nausea and indigestion. I don’t know how in-depth I have gotten into my stomach woes on this blog, but I have been suffering for years. I’ve had problems most of my life, but they have really started to become troublesome over the last decade. It affects my day-to-day life. I can’t perform a lot of duties (especially if they involve leaving the house) because of it. Believe me, this step is necessary, and long overdue.
You guys, I am so scared. It’s hard to pick which part is more terrifying: that they’re going to throat-rape me with a camera, or that I may or may not be sedated. I’ve never been put under or sedated for a medical procedure before, and I don’t know what to expect before or after. I haven’t talked to my nurse yet about the medications or the protocol, so all I am going on are various stories from the internet. You know that’s dangerous.
Most likely they will spray my throat with an anesthetic to kill my gag reflex, and then they’ll put under what is known as “twilight sedation,” which is where they put you out of it but not completely out. You’re still awake enough to do things if they need you to, but you probably won’t remember. Putting you completely out usually means there needs to be an anesthesiologist present, and they need to monitor, or even supplement breathing. Since this is going to be done in the office and not the hospital, I’m willing to bet that’s not the case. I researched the various drugs they may or may not use for the procedure, which was probably not very smart. You know what? That really wasn’t very smart. Just look up the drug “Versed” and get ready to shit your pants in terror for me.
There are so many aspects of this procedure that are royally fucking with my head. I have severe emetophobia, and I can’t think of anything more effective at inducing vomiting than sticking a 3-foot-long stick down your throat. As I said, I have never been put under, and if they end up using the aforementioned drug, there is no guarantee I’ll even be asleep. I don’t want them to do whatever they want to do me, ignoring my protests, relying entirely on me “not remembering.” Thats not cool! The whole thought of not having control over the situation, being harmed, and not being able to defend myself, or have anyone around to stand up for me is what is scaring me the most right now. I would read horror stories about something similar to this happening and I would literally cry from the fear. REAL TEARS!
Vance said something to me, after days of listening to me whine and cry, that was actually really enlightening. He said, without bragging or sounding condescending, “I think I could do it. I think if they just give me the throat spray, I could do it totally awake.” Nothing about that statement makes any sense to me. Like, I could feel my brain breaking after hearing that statement. The truth is people opt to do that instead of being sedated all of the time. Don’t ask me why, but they do. Vance said he thinks he could do it, because it doesn’t hurt, and even though it’s very uncomfortable, he knows it wouldn’t last for very long. If the procedure is 10-15 minutes long, then there is an end in sight, and so it would be bearable. And that is an excellent point. You’re not being cut open, and yeah it’s uncomfortable, and you might throw up (GAH) but it doesn’t last long. And you won’t die. And then you get to go home and eat pie or pancakes or whatever, and hell, they might even give you medicine to make you feel better.
The fact that I could be cured is the sole reason I haven’t cancelled yet. Even if I cancelled with the intention of doing it “someday” why would I want to wait any longer? I’m miserable most days. I have put this off for three years. This needs to happen.
So I’m going to go in on Thursday at 9 am. I will update at some point afterwards. Wish me luck!
