Don’t fear colonoscopy
. . . it could be a lifesaver

By Richard P. Weiss
For the Times

After months of postponing an appointment for a colonoscopy, I finally decided I could no longer put off scheduling this most important exam. A number of years had passed since my last test, and my doctor had urged me to get the procedure done every five years, especially since my father died of colon cancer.
Although I knew what to expect, as I had undergone this test before, going to my appointment still left me with a queasy feeling, one that I always seem to experience when needles, probes, cameras or long tubes threaten to invade my body. Having to wear nothing but a long gown that opens in the back also added to my disdain for the procedure.
However, my recollection of the suffering that my father endured from colon cancer, along with the knowledge that hereditary factors increase my likelihood of contracting this dreadful disease, wiped away any doubt that I needed to undergo another colonoscopy. I concluded that I’d rather wear a flimsy gown in a hospital than an expensive suit in a casket.
Getting ready for the exam was much easier than I had expected. I discovered that procedures for preparing for a colonoscopy had improved drastically in just a few years. The night before an exam I had undergone about five years ago, I recall having to drink a gallon of colite solution, a rather unpleasant tasting medicated fruit-flavored drink. Drinking one glass per minute quickly led me take refuge in the powder room, pent-up with a two-hour supply of reading material.
Thankfully, through miracles of modern technology and medicine, new prep kits have replaced older, barbaric methods of colonoscopy preparation. For my upcoming exam, to my relief, all I needed to do, besides drinking nothing but clear liquids for a day, was to down a couple of tablets and drink a small bottle of ginger ale, laced with a liquid medicine. Thankfully, the ginger ale still tasted fairly pleasant.
Following a day of consuming nothing but clear liquids and flavored gelatin, the anticipated day of my exam finally arrived.
After filling out a couple of forms, I was asked to change into a hospital gown and lie on a bed, where a nurse proceeded to check my vital signs while the anesthesiologist attached an IV to my arm.
They asked me a few questions regarding my health and family background as they prepared me for the procedure. The nurse and the anesthesiologist were very friendly and, fortunately for me, had a good sense of humor.
When one of them asked me if I had any allergies, I answered "I’m allergic to pain!"
After I watched the anesthesiologist pump a clear liquid into a tube attached to my IV, I felt lightheaded and knew that I was about to go under. However, I don’t remember falling asleep, nor do I remember any part of the procedure. As was the case with any morning, I awoke and turned to take a look at my clock radio to make sure I’d get up in time for work. I quickly became aware of my surroundings and remembered where I was.
"Oh, yeah," I chuckled, as I rediscovered where I had been sleeping.
Within minutes, my doctor approached me with the good news. He told me that I was fine and that he’d see me again for another test in five years.
Had only my father scheduled periodic checks on his colon, he might still be living today. I miss him dearly and recollect the first time that I found out he had a problem.
"Richard," my mother stated firmly on the phone.
I knew something was wrong, as my mother usually called me "Rich" or "Rick" unless she had something really important to say.
"I just got a call today from the doctor about dad’s biopsy. The mass they removed from his colon was malignant."
My mother sounded like she was about to cry, while I just froze, unable to respond.
Suddenly, that bright, crisp autumn day in 1987 turned into the dark and dreary dead of winter. My body grew numb, and I began to shake. Tears welled up in my eyes and began to flow down my face. News that his cancer may have spread to other organs only deepened my sorrow.
The surgery my dad withstood was horrendous. The doctors cut him open from his chest down to his lower abdominal area. They opened him up from behind as well, as they had to check all of his organs for signs of cancer that may have spread from his colon.
Finally, my dad was discharged from the hospital, and within a matter of weeks he was finally beginning to feel better and get back on his feet.
After a few years passed, the memory of my father’s ordeal in battling cancer began to fade. My family and I held on to the hope that his doctors had removed all of his cancer and that it wasn’t coming back.
Unfortunately, it did come back. Within two years after his second surgery to remove another cancerous lesion, an X-ray and a biopsy revealed that the cancer had spread to his liver. For the first time, doctors labeled my father as a "terminal" cancer patient. Because of his weakened heart, my father could not receive further treatment.
My father suffered greatly toward the end of his life. His cancer spread from his liver to his brain, and he lost not only his physical abilities but also his mental capabilities. Toward the end, I saw my father, a brilliant man with a doctorate in chemistry who designed computer systems, become a total vegetable. When he died in August 1994, my family and I were overwhelmed but also greatly relieved. He was finally out of his misery.
No one should suffer and die from colon cancer. A simple and painless procedure can greatly reduce the likelihood of contracting this horrible disease. I encourage anyone to call their physician to find out more about cancer prevention. ••
Richard P. Weiss is a former Castor Gardens resident now living in Bensalem.