It wasn’t quite 15 minutes, almost though. 15 minutes with a flexible tube up my backside, that is. Clearly, this may be a fine case of too much information, but hey-ho, sometimes you just have to share.
Having reached that age when the good old NHS sends a letter inviting you for a bowel cancer screening scope, there was no hesitation about going, even if the invitation was not all that appealing.
So off I went yesterday. Enema done at home first, check. Checked myself in and did the looooooooooong wait for my turn. Caused a bit of confusion when hearing the nurse calling “Ruth”, mind. Off I charged, eager to get done and dusted and head to work. Problem was, I was the wrong Ruth, but we shared the same date of birth – bizarre. The nurses then moved me from room to room leaving me to wonder if they’d forgotten about me. They hadn’t. Eventually, the paperwork was sorted. My lower clothing replaced with modesty shorts – a giant gaping hole at the back, and off I went to the procedure room, carrying my worldly goods in a large, supplied, plastic bag.
3 lovely nurses took care of me and before long they were pumping gas into me and doing their best to distract. During our general chatter, I did my best to watch my inflating lower intestine on the big screen. Let’s just say viewing wasn’t exactly Downton Abbey. Anyway, the procedure was a little painful or more discomfort and so I eventually took the offered “happy gas”, sucking on that device as if my life depended on it.
So why am I telling you all this? Well, so many people won’t go, indeed as the nurse explained to me, many just don’t arrive for appointments, wasting time and money. For me it was a no brainer, and I’d encourage everybody to go along and take one for the team(sorry), but mostly take the opportunity to get the all clear, or catch something early.
Bottoms up 🙂