Colonoscopy- cause who doesn’t want an evening spent drinking Miralax, playing a bathroom dance of doom, and praying you can keep it together long enough to not to throw up the prep drink? My pre-camera date was scheduled for August 4th. (Yes, WAS being the operative word.) My PA wanted the scope results ASAP but my doctor was booked out past the 20th. I can’t say I am super excited for this procedure, but I know the stress of the unknown will eat me alive, so I called to reschedule. Originally I picked the FIRST available Friday, that way I could work an exhausting but full 40 hours, and then have the weekend to deal with the aftermath–whatever that should be. For the reschedule, I said Thursday. Not really sure the logic there, just went with my gut.
I have IBD–don’t trust MY GUTS! As luck would have it, an un-reschedulable opportunity presented itself…for, you guessed it, the new re-scheduled date! Of course I’m panicked; how am I going to make it all work and still keep my full 40 hours?
It turns out that my doctor wanted to be involved. He went from being booked solid to “I’ll fit you in next week.” My gut reaction is that he is concerned and looking for something, but again…how much can we really trust my guts? Hopefully my GI is just embracing his amazing reputation and being involved from beginning to end.
I received another call, several actually; it seems in addition to the other problems, my liver enzymes are up. Not fatty-liver up (though I have that as an issue as well) but higher-than-average range. What does that mean exactly? Quite frankly, I have no idea. I was asked a series of questions: are you itching, do you have any rashes, and is your skin or eyes yellowing? I asked if I was looking at liver failure or just a liver problem and the lady on the end of the phone said we needed more tests to be sure but it is not likely liver failure. I was told to avoid taking pain meds, Ibuprofen, Tylenol, etc., and to head to the ER if I noticed any yellowing.
As a pale white girl living in the land of florescent lighting, the mirror has been my friend. I keep thinking, asking, and looking to see if I am ACTUALLY yellow, or if it’s in-my-head, bad-lighting yellow.
This flair is different in so many ways. I feel an unease and a sense of foreboding that I don’t recall with my others. It probably has less to do with my flair and more to do with my anxiety and fear of managing this disease with a toddler audience.