I came in this morning for the classic “welcome to 45” colonoscopy. I’m laying in the recovery room right now. Still a little wobbly. About an hour ago I woke up from anesthesia, and someone handed me peanut butter crackers like they were presenting a sacred offering. After the past day and a half, they tasted incredible.
The prep itself was fine. I handled it with a sense of humor and moved on. The trouble was everything around it. Last week the hospital said the pharmacy had my prep kit. They did not. I called and nobody called me back. I tried again on Monday and still nothing. The pharmacy finally had to order it. By this morning I was low on sleep, low on calories, and trying not to imagine more things going sideways.
I went through my paperwork again. Half of it said 12:30. The rest said 9:00. I caught this at 8:30 and tried calling the hospital, but got the same silence I had last week. I had taken my second dose of prep at 4am and still had to get my daughter to school afterward. That felt like a questionable life choice, but it went fine. I called again and finally got someone on the line. At that point I was fuming. I was tired, hungry, confused about my appointment time, and just trying to follow their instructions. I did my best to keep my composure and explain why I was so frustrated. She apologized for all the mix ups and said the experience did not meet their standard. That helped. I thanked her and apologized for sounding so angry and made sure she knew it was not directed at her personally. She understood. After the week I had trying to get any information at all, I figured it was safest to just drive to town. Missing the appointment after doing all that prep felt like the worst possible outcome.
Someone had canceled, so they worked me in. The staff seemed annoyed that my ride did not have the rest of the day free, which felt strange considering the confusion started with their own documents. They also missed the first IV attempt. My arm was dehydrated and not interested in cooperating. None of this was dramatic on its own, but when you are tired and hungry, it all piles up fast.
Through all of this, the mustache stayed with me. I grew it for Movember to talk about men’s health. At first it felt like a joke. Then it settled in. My coworkers have been mentioning it all month, so it felt like it should come along for the ride today too. A friend messaged me about thirty minutes after I woke up and teased me about the beanie I had on. I told them it was my emotional support beanie. They sent back a heart and said they were glad everything looked healthy. It was a small thing but it felt good to be checked on.
Somewhere in all of this, I keep thinking about why I am even sharing it. None of this is glamorous, but it matters. Too many men ignore stuff like this or put it off for years. The mustache gets attention. The colonoscopy is might get you more birthdays. If talking about it nudges even one guy to schedule his screening, then the whole messy story is worth telling.
The results were good. No polyps. One small spot of diverticulitis they will keep an eye on. Mostly I feel relief. Also hunger. A burger and fries sound perfect right now. Maybe a cold IPA when I get home.
While I wait for them to send me out of here, I keep thinking about how the scheduling mess might have worked out for the best. They ended up taking me earlier than planned. That means I can get real food in me, rest for a bit, and still show up for my kid’s Christmas program tonight. She has her own lines this year and has been practicing them for weeks. Every time she said them she lit up a little. I want to be awake and fed and present for that.
I am glad I did this. I am ready to go home. And I am keeping the mustache. At least for a while.