the hungry bad man cometh

Tomorrow I am having a colonoscopy.

Lucky, lucky me.

It’s kind of a routine one.

I have ulcerative colitis, which I manage well with medication and diet. It means I have an increased risk of getting bowel cancer though. When my mum died of it earlier this year, as had my grandpa 21 years ago, I thought I should probably tell my doctor. He pretty much packed me straight off to my consultant who decided I should be ‘scoped a few years earlier than planned. Just to be on the safe side.

All this means that I have not been able to eat since noon today. Anyone who knows me will know that I need to eat. Regularly. Otherwise the Hungry Bad Man comes to get me. I’ve had to have a medication to make sure that I am clean inside (if you see what I mean) and am starting to feel pretty fed up. I have another litre to tackle in an hour.

There’s a small part of my brain that is starting to worry that they may find something tomorrow. I guess that’s only natural, especially after what happened with mum. I’m trying not to worry overly about that. I tell myself I’ll worry if and when I need to. But it’s there, in the back of my head, and I can’t not hear it.

The rest of my brain is beginning to worry about how I will cope tomorrow when I can have nothing but water. I’m not even allowed a coffee. Given how crap/grumpy/weak I feel now, it’s not looking pretty.

The rest of the family are making veggie burgers for tea. I have a mug of marmite (gah) and some jelly to look forward to. I may go wild and have a glass of lemonade. I’ve got to get the calories in while I can.





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