Late last night, my friend Joe (The Fire) was reminiscing about his own colonoscopy, about which he stated, “The sedation they used is like the date rape drug…you’re pretty out of it.”
Well, I can tell ya this much – there was no dinner involved, but I sure as hell got violated.
In fact, the pain was so excruciating, that about 20 minutes in, I was sobbing and screaming for them to stop, clinging onto the guard rails of the gurney for dear life, as if trying to out-run the rod in my hinny.
Now, according to what you all have described, that wasn’t exactly what was supposed to happen.
Finally, after an ear-piercing sob, “STOP!” from me, brought about from the rod threatening to jam through my belly, I heard the doctor tell the resident, “Perhaps we need to stop this and try again with anesthesia.”
So yeah, after the awesome anal rape, I now have to relive it all over again in another few weeks.
When Cheese was finally able to come and get me, I was on my gurney, all dressed, and just crying from the pain.
He later said he was taken aback by this sight.
As was I taken aback by how hellacious this while experience was.
As an added surprise, I threw up in his car on the way home.
Thank goodness for the spare Target bag in the back seat.
Upon entering the apartment, I simply took my shoes off, crawled into bed, and slept for several hours. I woke up, still nauseous, with a blinding headache, raging flatulence, and liquid still pouring out of my backside.
I should’ve just gone to work.
Update - Dinner got thrown up. Seriously? I know this isn't right. And I talked to Joe again - he convinced me that I got nowhere near enough meds to numb me up. I am seriously considering not showing up for my next appointment, anesthesia or not.