Everything you want to know about my colonoscopy (but never dared to ask)

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Things about writers – things that we hate and occasionally like – are the ones we often look up at ourselves. There are two ways my professional can solve this problem.

We can develop a deeper sense of humbleness, transcend ourselves, and try to amplify the experience of others in this cruel, cruel world with our voices.

Or: We can bring you into our ass.
It is January, and we often do not meet our goals, so I will choose a more realistic alternative. But before I invite you to join my colon guide, you should know something about it – it’s not a happy place. Has not been happy for a long time.

From the age of 20 or so, I have inexplicable stomach ache accompanied by a red liquid, will be infected with a bowl of water or a bunch of white tissue. But I ignored it. Even if there are many. Even though I started to feel dizzy. The only person who can testify is me, alone in the toilet, and after a while, the only witness stopped paying attention. For 10 years, I neglected it.

But something strange happened in early last year. My stomach hurts more than usual. The next day I had to take painkillers. After a week sitting down pain, standing up pain, I had to go home early from get off work.

When I realized it affected my work, I began to understand what I ignored.

The first thing I did was research popularity. According to a survey of 1,643 adults published in the American Journal of Gastroenterology, about 16% of adults lose some of their blood loss from burns.
Another study found that 59% of patients with rectal bleeding never sought any medical advice.
My contrarian decided to make an appointment with a gastroenterologist. To find one, like any good New Yorker, I turned to Yelp.

There is much to say about being calm and exploring. People like Nancy C in Manhattan posted a one-star comment on her “Border Colonoscopy Southern” (and what else?). When she woke up, she was greeted with orange juice instead of biscuits. Nancy seems to be a smart woman. I listened to her advice and made an appointment elsewhere.

The night before surgery, you have to drink a liquid designed to “clean your system”, which is a gentle way. This drink will make you shit and shit, shit and shit till your clear water and your homeless can be an Evian volcano. When you reach the surgery, you have not eaten for 24 hours, you have not slept, and your stomach feels painful because of constant farting.

After that, a nurse pushed me into a small room with two huge TV screens, where my colon camera cast like a blue planet. The anesthetist came in to give me something to inject. I explained halfway through one sentence that the injection did not work and then woke up to wonder where my biscuits were.

A week later, the doctor called to discuss my results with me.
There are five pages on her desk, with my photos on it. Specifically, my colon photo. She pointed gently across the tip of the nib and explained that my rectum had a slight tear, but the pain did not seem to fit well. She advised to eat more fiber and give me a prescription for a suppository (currently behind some sunscreens that were hidden on my bathroom shelf).

On the way home on the train, I took the report and examined it carefully to see if she missed something. I wonder if a string of veins may turn from blue to purple after Donald Trump’s inauguration. A smooth area of ??white light shone from the flash of the lens suddenly made me feel that a large chunk of my stomach might have worn off. I saw the news in the ensuing days.

The fact is, we do have a “stomach pain” experience, because our brain is closely related to our stomach. In a retrospective review of 13 studies, those who tried psychology improved their digestive problems better than those who did not.

Maybe the doctor who has seen my heart miss some important things. Even if we are talking about ourselves, we also use euphemisms. Our body can even use this language means. My stomach hurts because my brain can not tell my anxiety about the new political reality.

Euphemism makes our world more comfortable. Even in the absence of a bathtub, you can say that the bathroom, although it is the material of life, but generally not like shit and blood. These are mild evasions from the truth. Tiny oral hug in a terrible world. The more horrible the world becomes, the more attractive it is to deal with them. But I now think we need to be more honest about ourselves and the other than ever before.

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