A topic no quad wants to discuss… the colonoscopy. We've all heard horror stories of doing the prep for a clean out for a colonoscopy, including no eating, running to the bathroom for hours on end, and having to ingest an exorbitant amount of liquid. But for an individual living with paralysis, the colonoscopy seems almost impossible, especially since we cannot stand up 100 times during the night to use the toilet. Even so, colonoscopies are a necessary evil as we approach our 50s, and we should not be exempt due to our disability. It’s been something that's been looming on me for quite some time, but the logistics seemed so intense that I put it off, for like… years.
My primary care physician finally encouraged me this year, as I fall into a high-risk category, having a parent deceased from colorectal cancer. I'm also 47 now, and it was time. For the prep, I was provided two options. Option one, which was explained as the norm for quads, included an overnight hospital stay with procedures including rectal tubes, vacuums, and other scary devices that furthered my growing complete avoidance of the event. I foreshadowed lying in a hospital bed for an entire night on my bad shoulder hooked up to all sorts of apparatuses with nurses that didn't understand anything that comes along with being paralyzed. Sounded like a horrific UTI in the making or, better yet, a sacroiliac wound. Option two, a much more favorable situation, involved performing the prep in my home, but only if I had a knowledgeable caregiver who was willing and wanted to pull an all-nighter with me sitting in a reclining shower chair. Luckily, one of my most experienced caregivers had no plans for her spring break, was willing to help, and so we were approved for the at-home option. Game on.
My journey commenced the evening before my procedure at 6 PM, where I ingested eight large colonoscopy horse pills, Gas-X, and an additional over-the-counter laxative along with a disgustingly large amount of water. As soon as they went down the hatch, it was a hurry, hurry as we were off to the races. We quickly Hoyer lifted me out of my power wheelchair and into my bed, pulled off my lower undergarments, Hoyer lifted me back out of bed and into the shower chair for my upcoming nightly stay in a seated position. It felt as though I was preparing for childbirth, and I had just been induced for an early delivery over a trashcan. Sparing the gory details of what transpired, it actually took almost 2 hours for the first round of “deliverables,” which was then followed by an entire night of multiple alarms for more colonoscopy horse pills, more extreme amounts of liquids, no sleep, no food, and continued deliverables. I attempted small reclined naps in my shower chair throughout the night, albeit unsuccessful, all the while binging on various reality TV shows and movies. Hour after hour passed, night turned into dawn and first light appeared through my drapes-and as the deliverables lessoned and lessoned by the hour, my exhausted self now turned my attention on how to be transported to the medical practice without having an accident as there was clearly no predicting what my system would do in this state of evacuation.
At 6 AM, it was time to head for my 9 AM procedure. I was delicately transferred back to bed, lower extremities re-dressed, and back in the wheelchair. And with a small stroke of luck, no accidents.
The procedure went off without a hitch, with a top-notch colonoscopy MD that understood my needs and supported my home prep request, knowing that my caregiver and I knew my body better than anyone else. My caregiver was with me every step of the way-and all of the nurses were impressed with our knowledge base together and teamwork camaraderie. I certainly would not have been able to do this without her.
Long story short, and with reflection of a wild ride of a night, performing a colonoscopy as a quad is definitely doable, and with the right support network, a reclining shower chair, and an open-minded MD, certainly an option to do the prep at home. I was glad to get a thumbs up from my MD with favorable results and, more importantly, ecstatic that I have five years before having to pull a doozy like that of an all-nighter anytime soon.