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 The TestsPosted 07.18.2004 by Poopoopeedoo (36) Reading Poonurse's great article on Diverticulosis & Diverticulitis (thank you, Poonurse), I recalled the ordeal I went through with this horrible affliction. Several years ago, I began having terrible pain in my stomach (in retrospect, I see now that I abused my body with WAY too much partying). In fact, the pain was so bad that I once went to the hospital because I was near the point of passing out -- my buddy got scared, so he called the ambulance. It took three injections of Stadol to make the pain go away during that particular episode. I spent time in the hospital for a battery of tests and observation. I begged them for something to get rid of the pain, but the more I begged, the less apt they were to give me something, thinking I must be some kind of drug addict -- until I grabbed the doctor by the shirt and pulled him to me and told him I needed something for pain IMMEDIATELY or I was going to pass out! I endured this for years. Some episodes were worse than others, and included SEVERE pain, uncontrollable vomiting, constipation or diarrhea, etc. The vomiting was so bad that first all the food would come up, followed by green mucous, then yellow mucous and then a mouth full of hair (you can't dig any deeper than that!). The bad part was that I would never know when an episode would come; there were no warning signs. Once I went out at 8:00 PM and was stuck on the side of the road in my car until 1:00 AM because I couldn't stop puking my brains out. Passers-by thought I had too much to drink. The gastroenterologists gave me tests that included thick liquid Barium which I needed to swallow so they could take x-rays as it passed through my GI tract. That made me crap a white brick that was so heavy it WOULD NOT FLUSH down the crapper. Next, I drank a Barium mixture with the consistency of snot for a CT scan. They told me I MUST drink it slowly; no chugging allowed! Gag-city, folks! But what I was NOT told was that this concoction was a diuretic, and would cause me to pee like the proverbial Russian racehorse ON STEROIDS. From what I could gather, this test was supposed to expand my bladder and move internal organs around while illuminating my GI tract, so they could photograph otherwise invisible internal body parts as they SLOWLY pushed my body thorough the scanner ten centimeters every thirty seconds. This was combined with two injections of dye -- the syringes were the big ones, each about the size of a tube of caulking. In one word: torture. The Chinese water torture couldn't be any worse than this (Poonurse could probably give more information about this test than myself). In the middle of this test I couldn't hold the pee in any longer, and I HAD TO GO. The technician advised me that I would have to suck it up. I advised her that if she didn't let me use the facilities, all she was going to get was a picture of my bladder exploding. I never had to pee so badly in my entire life! The next test was a scope down my throat, in combination with a mild sedative. This caused me to puke some strange black gravel resembling asphalt. The next test was the scope up my butt, which was very uncomfortable and a very, very humbling experience, to say the least. To this day, I still don't know what was worse: the test or the preparation for the test. I was not allowed to eat food; the idea was to 'clean me out' for greater visibility, and to clear the freeway of my GI tract of any and all brown traffic jams. And clear me out it did -- there was no brown gridlock by the time I was finished! I was given a prescription for two bottles of magnesium sulfate elixir, to "start things flowing." Then the pharmacist handed me a one-gallon plastic container with some strange powder in it. I was told to fill it with water, and drink an eight-ounce glass every ten minutes. This stuff made me pee out my butt every five minutes! It went on for hours. I would drink a glass, go to the crapper, squirt, wipe, and go to the kitchen for another glass of this stuff; and while I was swallowing this horrific nectar, I would have to run to the bathroom and squirt again. My bum was in agony and begging for mercy. I was physically exhausted, but on the plus side, I was in shape for the New York City Marathon. Feeling beaten and nearly whimpering, I resigned myself to this liquid-fury and brought the stuff into the bathroom with me. Drink, squirt, repeat. I felt as though I went on an all-night date with my toilet and we were joined like Siamese twins -- toilet seat to butt. As for the test, it was humiliating, VERY invasive, and more than a little uncomfortable. I requested to be completely sedated, but my doctor wouldn't hear of it. It was at this point they discovered the diverticulosis. But the doctor never gave me the results of the test. (As a side note, if a doctor from any discipline ever needed a good bedside manner, it's this butt-doctor. I fired him.) In fact, I didn't even know I had diverticulosis until one year after "my healing," when my new family doctor requested my medical records from the old one. Which brings me to the wonderful end of this story of pain, pills, bills and sheer agony. That is when The Great Physician stepped in and touched my body. We were having awesome revival services in the church I attended and I asked the evangelist to lay hands on me and pray for my healing from this dreaded affliction. I can honestly tell you that I have not had a single episode in four years. Jesus is good! I finally have relief from years of excruciating pain and medicine, and all it took was one good dose of mercy! I believe in Prayer! He still heals! As Mr. Ripley once said, "Believe it or not!" -- Poopoopeedoo Post new comment
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