Scared Shitless: Worries about Seeing the Gastroenterologist

*Disclaimer: This post may venture into "gross land". There will be talk of poop and all things related. Just letting you know*

I love my friend MJ, she's incredible. She doesn't live near me. We used to live together. She is my best friend. My daughter's godmother. She has incredible strength and determination. She is an incredible person. Someone I would and have trusted with my life. So, I knew when I shot her an email this morning she would respond quickly and with exactly what I needed.

I was in need of a blog post. I have one in the hopper but it's serious and I'm not sure I want to post it yet. I posted it someplace else and I plan to share it but I want to make sure it's right. It's been brewing for awhile and I'm just not ready to post it here. But I needed something to fill the space. See my brain? It's like mush right now. I worked most of the weekend either on grad school stuff or on real work stuff or at our garage sale. I feel like it should be Thursday and it's on Tuesday. It's been a long week and it's only the beginning.

MJ hears it all from me. She knows about the ins and outs of my life. The ups and downs. Fears and Joys. She knows it all and still loves me. So, when I emailed her with "I need an idea for a blog post for my other blog." She came back with something that made me laugh out loud. She took what she knew has been going on and something I had not considered blogging about and made it funny. It was perfect and that is how my title and this topic was born.

I went to the OB/GYN a little while ago...maybe last week. I had fears of Ovarian Cancer in my head because truly I was experiencing all the symptoms associated with it. I even mentioned this to my doctor and she completely understood why I had made this association. Normally, she chuckles when I share my fears with her. She didn't this time. This time she listened to my fears and sort of "agreed" with them and then gave me an ultrasound. She was looking for the indicators. Luckily, she didn't find any. She found a cystic ovary but nothing else to indicate Ovarian Cancer. Thank God. You know what else she found in there?

A Churning Bowel.

I hate that phrase. It's gross to me. She must have said it about 20 times. "Wow! Your bowel is really churning away!" Then it was "Oh my goodness, look at that churning bowel!" Then to the med student in the room, "Do you see how her bowel is just churning and churning?" Finally, enough was enough! No more churning unless we're talking about butter!! She laughed and explained why it was a big deal that my bowel was going so crazy. It appears I have what is called Irritable Bowel Syndrome- IBS. No Big Deal. Unless of course I have to poop, then it is a big deal because the churning bowel will need to empty itself- immediately!

My new mission? I have to go and see a specialist. I have to see a Gastroenterologist. Honestly, I'm really not worried about seeing him or her. I don't think he's going to reveal that I have bowel cancer or anything like that. To be quite frank, up until two or three days ago I had zero intention of actually going to see this specialist. I had planned to live with this. I had planned to alter my diet and deal with the effects. It's bad but I can deal.

So, why am I scared shitless? Clever, right...shitless....poopy doctor....get it? Well, I'm not really scared, I am just, well, obstinate.

I hear GI specialist and images and visions and ideas pop into my head. I have visions of exams that are more unpleasant than a pelvic. More invasive than being checked during labor. More uncomfortable than an internal ultrasound.

Ideas of instructions on how to collect my own poopy sample float into my subconscious and occupy my brain all day long. Ideas of enemas and colonoscopies perpetuate my thinking constantly.

I am so against showing anyone my poopy place. I am so against anything having to do with poop. I am just uncomfortable with poop- especially my own.

I know, I know- everybody poops.

MJ has reassured me repeatedly that this visit will not be that bad. She has told me over and over again that even though the doctors have the choice of going to look like weird men, they are probably quite good at what they do and I should just suck it up and deal. She has guaranteed me that they won't be looking for a poopy sample or giving me an unpleasant exam in the first visit. I guess I have to believe her.

My symptoms has increased and gotten uncomfortable as of late. It has been determined that I'm going to have to bite the bullet and make a visit to my local poopy doctor. I'm not looking forward to it. AT ALL. The only comfort I can take in getting treatment for this not so much fun condition is that if I shit my pants while there it's much easier to obtain a sample!