Oh poo.

   Since I am so busy living my life out loud before it is too late, I thought I would blog about shit today.  Excuse me, if you don't like shit, crap, poo, doo doo, or an other silly word for bowel movement, then get off of here right now.
   Okay, I am not talking about changing diapers or trying to be rude like a group of six year old boys.  No, I am talking about my impending colonoscopy.  Yes, that is right.  It is the shit.  And, it is at seven freakin' am tomorrow morning.  I feel a pint of silliness this afternoon and an ounce of delirium after liquid fasting for 24 hours now.  So I will put it out there that I am a little scared!  Ergos the need to write about it.
  Let's go back in history.  I am at some Blockbuster on College Avenue in Ft. Collins, Colorado some random month in 1995.  I am with this really cute guy named Jef.  (That is right, he spells it with one "f.)  Not yet knowing I would think about marrying the guy but won't a year from this third or so date, I am all kinds of nervous.  I am nervous because he keeps asking me over to look at a movie jacket, but I keep farting.  My stomach hurts so darn bad that I think I might just pass out right there and then.  Oh GOSH!  Where is the bathroom?! 
   Well, like I said, I did end up dating Jef for over a year until he transferred for grad school so I guess the farting wasn't a turn off.  For a few months, I avoided the Olive Garden like the plague, barely ate a thing, and felt a bit better.  Then some where along the line, I was walking to campus when I passed out.  Completely blacked out some place on the side walk.  After coming to, I dragged myself to the art building where I was now dreadfully late for a group presentation in the gallery!
   Long story shorter, three years, and five doctors later, I have ulcerative colitis.  The passing out was sparked by two helpings of Kraft in the blue box made with whole COW milk.  Dang cows.  It has actually been a long time since I did all the readin' up on the disease, and I had managed to put myself in remission. So I don't know if I can sum up the whole deal really well.  Basically, UC is an autoimmune disease of the large intestine.  Mine is considered proctitus as it is only a few millimeters up in my you-know-whatsome.  Khrone's is similar but further on up and harder to treat.  I have never had an ulcer.  My symptoms are severe cramping, arthritic pain on my left side joints, nausea, throwing up, fatigue, and those other things that pretty much resemble a horrible bout of food poisoning. 
   I recently came across my old files.  I saved every piece of paper from the CSU clinic, which was not much help, all the way to the doc I have had here in Longmont since 1998.  He fixed me.  I had gone to many male docs that either thought I was insane, doped me on drugs with annoying side effects but then never wanted to help me get off of them, or just were total freaks.  It is not like sitting in a waiting room of a GI office with a bunch of old dudes (yes, mostly old dudes have GI issues) is a lot of fun for a 20 year old (totally hot babe, by the way).
   Dr. Jensen saved me sometime after setting me up with some groovy drugs that I won't go into details to tell you how to administer, during my seventh or so flair up.  It was bad.  I had moved, was fully employed teacher and couldn't trot off to the potty whenever I wanted, and was thinking I just might like to get married and have a baby.  Would I be able to have a baby?  I finally asked, "This seems silly that I can't get off these drugs and figure out how to use food properly as this is like totally in my digestive system...right?"
   Right.  So I proceeded with my education of food....  Drum roll....  Do you know what is in this stuff you are buying?! 
   I found that I could deal with one serving of dairy a day but no onions, peppers, soy, other beans (hummus is okay though), hardly any nuts...etc.  I learned what starting to feel bad was before it was feeling bad.  And, I became a pro at the BRAT diet.  This become quite handy as a mother of a son who, lack of a better word since ALL tests have come back negative, has irritable bowel disease.
   So there you are, my abridged history on my shit.  Tomorrow I will have a colonoscopy as I am over ten years from diagnosis.  It is my second only because I was pregnant when I was supposed to have my first one, and I sort of avoided the hurtle...well...until it turns out that I just might be a great candidate for colon cancer.  UC patients get screened yearly.  My risk was just doubled with this dang breast cancer gig.  You know, if you can grow them one place, you can grow tumors anywhere.
  So what is it like.  Well, it isn't for the weak, but it isn't too bad.  Yes, you read that right; it is not horrible.  I don't eat a lot of fat so it is easy to start on a low fat, easy to digest diet a week before.  The killer is the liquid fast.  It is started the day before, but I found it better to start with broth and such the afternoon before the day before to make the "prep" go more quickly.  It can be very difficult to avoid putting things in your mouth, especially when you have kiddos.  I am packing Julia's lunch and putting chips in a box when...no!  Spit that out.  
   Right now, I finished the first 32 oz flask of lemonade flavored but not-quite-what-it-should-be drink.  I moving and groovin' and remembered that it makes you very cold so wearing my favorite Lucy brand jogging fleece.  Feeling fine.  You know, it is all a mind game.  Makes me a stronger individual, right?  And yes, I will frown in a year when I am walking out of the pharmacy with my giant Movi-Prep bag of goodies. 
  So why again am I, scared even though I write in my bubbly, silly fashion?  Well, I am scared because I have been basically healthy for three months.  That is all I have gotten of reprieve over the past two years.  Everything is groovy, I am making plans for a trip to Disneyland, my daughter's seventh birthday is in four days, and...well, things are nice.  Isn't that when God laughs, when you make plans?   So, ya, everything will be fine, right?  They will just take a tour of pretty pink intestine, stop to look at how my appendectomy incision healed up, and print graphic pictures for me to take home as a souvenir.  Well, we'll see. 
    That is the shit on shit.  I won't blush like the husband sitting in the waiting room waiting for his wife I saw hiding behind his Golf Magazine when I was picking up my prescriptions.  There are a lot of young people with sick guts out there.  I am just one of them.