On Trying Not to Cry Before a Colonoscopy
I love my mom and apparently I also love the Magnolia Network.
Television takes on a different meaning when we feel afraid or feel alone. And so at 7:35am yesterday, after checking in for my colonoscopy appointment, I go from having never watched a single minute of Magnolia Network to being incredibly invested in the building of a modern cabin in Big Sur. The episode’s title holds the word retreat and that word sounds really good. Even the commercials have my attention. Those remodels in Galveston? The finals of the Silos baking competition? Let’s reschedule the colonoscopy because I need to be available for both.
***
“Who is your ride home?”
“My mom. Janet Tworkowski.”
“Do you want her with you when you wake up?”
“Ohh, umm, I didn’t realize that was an option. She was just planning to pick me up.”
“She can be with you when you wake up, which means she would be with you when the doctor goes over the results, or we can call her when you’re ready to go home.”
“Uhh. Hmm. She can just pick me up, I guess.”
***
The next part makes me reconsider. To be clear the next part is the part where I take off all my clothes, along with the ring I’ve worn for 20 years—Mom’s original wedding ring, before Dad got her a new one—put them in a bag, put on a gown, not sure how to tie the gown, and then a nurse starts an IV. After doing a good job of not looking for a while, I eventually look over and realize that the IV is not off to a great start. All of this is happening while ten other patients are having similar experiences in the same room, all of us separated only by curtains. (Why are there no walls?) All of this is happening at an hour when I’m typically asleep. (I would love to be asleep. Or building a cabin in Big Sur. Even though I’ve never built anything in my life.) I haven’t eaten in 36 hours. And I’ll spare you the details regarding how many times I went to the bathroom the night before. (You can google “colonoscopy prep” if you’re curious.) Finally, my last sip of water was two hours ago and at this point I would pay a thousand dollars for one of those little apple juice bottles that keeps parading by. (I don’t have a thousand dollars but would finance it. Apple juice is now up there with Magnolia Network in terms of my favorite things in the world.)
***
“Umm, at the front desk I said my mom could just pick me up. If it’s okay, if she wants to come sooner, I would like that.”
***
And then I’m wheeled away because suddenly it’s game time. Suddenly the colonoscopy part of the colonoscopy is actually happening. And somehow, for the first time in the history of medicine, they’re starting early. The 8:30am colonoscopy that’s been on my calendar for three months, it’s now happening at 8:26. (Should we maybe just watch Magnolia for four minutes? You guys gotta see this Big Sur retreat cabin.)
Everyone is super kind. They know this is my first time. Not only is it my first colonoscopy—almost all of this is new for me. Including the oxygen now flowing through my nose. The bright light directly above reminds me of movies. (Have I only ever seen this on television?) When it comes to the cards we’re dealt for health, I’ve had it easy up to now. I’m noticing that I really appreciate the people in the room, these medical professionals. Each one tells me their name and what they do. What they do is so important. I appreciate their time and talent, their wisdom and dedication, and of course their kindness too.
“Alright we need you to lay on your left side.”
“Is this okay?”
“That’s perfect. You’re gonna start to drift off in about 20 seconds.”
I remember wondering how to position my legs. I like to sleep with a pillow in between. An extra pillow would be welcome in this moment. I also remember worrying that the anesthesia might not work. I have a very active brain—I once wrote a book called If You Feel Too Much—what if my brain is more powerful than the anesthesia? Do they know that I’m a four on the enneagram…
I’m awake again, back in the room with the curtains and the apple juice. The procedure is over and I experienced precisely none of it. Not even an awkward moment to thank the people who helped, before they wheeled me out. My mom walks up and smiles. You could have told me I was asleep for a month but apparently the whole thing took less than half an hour.
A minute or two later, the doctor checks in. All went well. He didn’t find anything. Best-case scenario. I have a couple questions that I won’t share here.
***
There’s a Dunkin Donuts on the way home. We drive thru. I get an egg-and-cheese croissant with hash browns and an iced coffee with cream. Neither were allowed the day before. My mom insists on paying. Those first bites taste amazing. I’m appreciating food in a new way.
Gracie, my little pup, is always happy to see me. And I do my best to cherish every day with her. Back home, today’s reunion is extra sweet.
I thank my mom. For waking up early, for giving me a ride to the appointment and another ride back home, for buying breakfast too. She has always helped me so much. I’m 43 years old and she still helps me so much. I’m feeling super grateful for her.
***
Why am I telling you about my colonoscopy? I suppose there are a few reasons.
I want to encourage you not to wait when it comes to stuff like this. If you’re concerned about something health-related, or if your age means it’s time for a procedure, please don’t wait. Definitely don’t wait because it’s awkward or uncomfortable. And please don’t buy the lie that you’re too busy.
To the men reading this, when it’s time, please get your prostate checked. Please schedule that colonoscopy. I went to a funeral for my friend Rob a couple months ago. He died at 46 of colon cancer. Rob left behind a wife and young son. Those of us who loved him would give anything for awkward conversations, for uncomfortable appointments, if it meant that he could be here with us. I told my counselor two days ago that I hoped in some small way to honor my friend by walking through this, to remember Rob as I went about the process.
I want to admit that I was afraid. When I was alone in the curtained room between Magnolia and Game Time, between dark woods and bright light, I felt as alone as I’ve ever felt before. Life felt fragile. Because of my own lack of experience with these kinds of situations, I was way outside my comfort zone. I did my best to play it cool but I was close to crying.
Part of me is embarrassed to share that last bit because I know so many of you have been through so much worse, whether in your own life or in the life of someone you care about. At the same time maybe it’s okay for me to share a human experience with you, even if I’m arriving late to a fraction of what you’ve been through. And maybe my human experience can help me relate to what you’ve known—how lonely and scary these medical moments can be. Mine went fine, and yet it’s given me a new appreciation for the days when everything does not go fine, the procedures that don’t end with good news, the rides home where someone’s missing.
When it comes to what I write about, I feel a lot of freedom. I hope Ever Get Home can be an honest outlet for all the parts of being alive, for the awkward and uncomfortable, for the loneliness and fear. Because when we’re honest about all of it, when we’re willing to admit what’s really hard and what scares us, we give each other permission to be honest. And maybe when we do that, we give each other permission to be human.
Perhaps when two of us can admit we’ve felt afraid and felt alone, we find suddenly some comfort. Another person has stood in the scary place, and so it is less haunted. Someone else stands with us in the lonely place, and so we’re not alone.
We build a modern cabin in the woods.
Join me for one of three upcoming small-group conversations. In the weeks ahead we’re talking friendship, starting something new, and confidence.
To learn more about working with me one-on-one or cooking up a speaking event, visit JamieTworkowski.com.
Needed to hear this today, stop putting off those scary appointments. Glad everything went well friend! :)
The ‘4 on the enneagram’ part made me smile :)