Down the Hatch

Over the past few months I have endured a series of diagnostic tests to figure out the cause of my chronic diarrhea. The basic hypothesis is that my scleroderma has caused waste to move more slowly through my gut, leading to bacterial overgrowth. But my GI specialist, Dr. H, has been thorough, trying to rule out other issues, as well.

So, first I had a celiac test. Negative. Then I did a barium swallow, which confirmed that I have strictures in my esophagus (no surprise—I’ve felt food get stuck there for years), but everything else was working just fine, thank you. Then I did a diagnostic which involved swallowing a lot of sugar water and testing my breath periodically over three hours to check for signs of bacterial overgrowth. That one came back negative, though Dr. H suspects it’s still an issue.

Monday was the last test in the series, an upper endoscopy. I haven’t done this in years. We left early for Boston in rainy weather, but still made it 45 minutes ahead of time. Fortunately, that meant they took me in early, as well. Given that I usually time my visits to the nanosecond, this was evidence for rethinking my habits a bit.

This unit at Boston Medical is dedicated to outpatient endoscopy procedures, and I was in Bed 30. While prep felt a bit like being on an assembly line, the nurses were cordial and very efficient as they checked my vitals and inserted an IV line. Even as the repetitive questions seemed endless (how many times do I have to confirm that I am indeed the person named on my wristband?), there was a benefit. Somehow, between check-in and prep, Al’s phone number was recorded incorrectly. Since he was driving me home, that needed to be fixed. Glad we caught the error.

After I met the anesthesiologist and signed a consent, I only had time to do the Monday New York Times Crossword, Connections and Strands puzzles on my phone (my morning breakfast ritual) and they were ready to wheel me into the exam room, a half-hour ahead of schedule.

Dr. H did the procedure, which I appreciated. The last thing I recall after they hooked me up to the IV and various sensors, was telling them, when they put the oxygen cannula in my nose, that I get bloody noses easily. Then I woke up. My throat was sore. Dr. H had gone the extra mile, as he told me he might, and stretched the strictures in my esophagus. This he did by inserting a long, thin balloon, which he inflated and then removed. Hopefully this will ease swallowing. For the most part, everything else looked normal.

After some ginger ale and graham crackers, I was steady enough on my feet to get dressed and walk with the nurse to find Al in the waiting room. It was still pouring on our drive home, but we got back around Noon. Some food and a nap helped, but as I write late Monday afternoon, I’m still groggy. The swelling in my throat is easing slowly.

So, even if we still don’t have solid answers to the diarrhea question, at least it may be easier to eat. Worth the hassle. Glad it’s over.

Evelyn Herwitz blogs weekly about living fully with chronic disease, the inside of baseballs, turtles and frogs, J.S. Bach, the meaning of life and whatever else she happens to be thinking about at livingwithscleroderma.com. Please view Privacy Policy here.

Image: Ahkmet Yüksek