With friends like these...

I arrived at the reception desk of the X-ray department and waited for the receptionist with big earrings and too much make-up to finish shuffling papers around, tell her my name. She repeats it and says take a seat and wait to be called. Seat number 1. I pick up a copy of The New Scientist and read a article about how scientists say time does not exist and is not an essential component for the most theories to work, the exception being Quantum Theory.

A nurse calls my name along with the names of two other people. She marches us about 10 feet to some lockers and in front of an audience of people wearing hospital gowns and anxious faces. A neatly folded stack of hospital gowns are on her other side. Being British we instinctively form a queue in front of her, I wait at the back.

“Please take your top half and bottom half off in those changing rooms over there, take this and put it on, then put your things in one of these lockers then sit in this area and wait to be called”. She repeats the same mantra two more times so she feels she is complying with the sign on the wall that says 'treat patients with dignity'. “You can keep your shoes, socks and underwear on”. I am a little confused for a moment wondering how to take my jeans off without removing my Nike trainers. She sees the confusion in my face and repeats the mantra. “Okay?”, “Thanks” I said. I strip down in the changing room, a man in the cubicle next to mine is moaning about how difficult the gowns are to put on and tie up – I don't have a problem, its not the first time. I roll up my jeans so the contents of the pockets don't spill out. I wish I was going swimming instead. I wish I'd taken that copy of The New Scientist with me too. I push my stuff in locker number 7 hoping that I will make it to seven seats before the morning is out. I spin the keyring with the big number seven on the tag around as I trot to...

Seat number 2. 3 minutes twiddling my thumbs and thinking about the number 7 and its significance in my life. The nurse calls my name and says “This way please”. She walks ahead of me, I walk at my own pace. 20 feet from seat 2 I am sitting in seat number 3, its more of a bench, cushioned and a nice view of 2 thirsty house plants. This is more of a public corridor with doctors and nurses are bustling by with authority and medical files. I am wearing the hospital gown.

5 minutes now. A big lady with a bright yellow insulated apron confirms my name, yes, and takes me to chair number 4 in a room just off the corridor, she sits next to me in the comfy chair with arms rests.

“You know what you're having done today?”

“Yes, a gastro-graffin enema”

“Have you had one before?”

”No, I have some questions though.”

“Well, we will be putting some water in your bottom that can be seen by x-ray to make sure there are no leaks from you pouch and your... that” pointing to my abdomen “can be reversed”

“No, I don't use that word.”

She tilts her head to the left. “What word?”

“Reversal...I hope to be reconnected but I am not ever going back to how things were. I use the word 'reconnected'”

“Well we use the word 'reversal'”

“Are you the radiologist?”

“No, I'm the nurse”

“I'd like to ask the radiologist a couple of questions.”

“The Doctor is preparing in there at the moment, you can ask me and if there is something I can't answer I can ask her to talk to you”.

“Its just two simple things really. I would like to ensure that you are aware that I do not have a rectum and secondly that you will be using a Foley catheter for the enema.”

“That's not going to be possible. We use a special catheter. I will have a word with the Doctor but this is how we do this procedure”.

Off she goes through the big door that says 'please notify the radiographer if you are pregnant'. I move in to the comfy chair, number 5 – almost there.

5 minutes later the nurse is back with a clear plastic bag, inside is a coiled rigid blue tube with a pink thing on the end of it about the size of an index finger but looking like a monkey penis.

“This is what we use”

“No. I won't be letting you put that inside me”

“it just goes in your anus, we use lubricant, it doesn't hurt at all. Might be a little uncomfortable but it doesn't hurt”

“Look, I would prefer to speak to the radiographer about the procedure as I am certain that the Foley is not as uncomfortable and I know it is a perfectly reasonable request. I only have one pouch and I will not be letting you or anyone else put that monkey penis in my backside”.

Off she trots again. I am wondering how I can get another two chairs in.

Next the door opens and the nurse calls me through.

She tells me to take off my shoes and socks. “And your pants” with a friendly smile, “put them on the chair. White coat syndrome kicks in and I comply. I sit down to take my shoes off...seat number 6. I am smiling.

There is a big beige General Electric X-ray machine, attached partially to the ceiling and a metal bench disguised as a bed with a carefully placed disposable absorbent sheet and cushion. At the end of the bench is an infusion stand with a bag of clear fluid and the blue tube and the monkey penis dangling freely. Beside the bench are some steps and about 2 feet to the right is a big monitor on a trolley with a cable wired to somewhere behind the screened off windowed area in the far right corner of the room.

An inch shorter, without my shoes on and with no boxer shorts on I feel they are trying to dent my resolve. I walk over toward the radiographer who meets me beside the bench. She is the first person today to introduce themselves. She asks me why do I want the Foley. I explain that I don't want the tissues in my pouch damaged nor the anastomosis site.

“Have you ever done these with a Foley catheter?” I ask.

“No”

“How many of these have you done with people with ileo-anal pouches?” Thinking I might walk out now.

“Not that many.”

“So how many is that? More than 10?”

“No. But I am aware that the Foley can be used. The catheter we use does not hurt. I know the reason you don't want us to use this” pointing at the monkey penis “because you are afraid you've not used your back end for some time...”

I don't say anything, even though I wanted to. Salesmen say nothing once they have got the sale and I am happy for her to convince herself in to complying with my request. She looks at the nurse and says okay. With a little smirk. The nurse looks a little pissed off. But disappears off to get me my Foley. Jack would be proud.

The Doctor asks me to get on the bed. I climb up and sit down. I think that counts as 7. She asks me to lay down on my left side with my back to her. I ask if its possible to get the monitor moved round so I can see the images. She says she can't. “Are you sure?”. No she's not giving in completely today but does concede that she will show me the images at the end.

The nurse returns with a plastic bag and what looks to me like a Foley if not a little wider tube that I remember. There seems to be a few more women accumulate in the room behind the screen. I think they might want to see my bare behind but realise its more likely out of curiosity of my unusual anatomy. I should have sold tickets. They should have asked my permission. So much for the dignity bullshit on the wall. In the corner of the room the nurse is fumbling over the connection on the pouch of Gastro-graffin and the Doctor helps out “Just tape over it”. Without the fancy uniforms and expensive equipment this is an amateur racket. I want to get this done and out of the way. Its a necessary step and I have had worse things done to me by more incompetent people. The proceedings are going ahead but I am the one in control.

The Doctor inserts the lubricated catheter and I feel a sting at the point where I think it passed the anastomosis. I notice that the liquid has not been flushed through the tube so it is still filled with air. They neglect to inflate the balloon in the catheter and tape to tube at various points to my hairy behind. “Oh no!” I say jokingly. But then seriously “Taking those off is going to be the most painful bit of this procedure”.

Before I get to say anything else, air is inflating my pouch and I can feel it gurgling inside. Moments later ice cold liquid is filling in to my bag. I touch my bag reflexively. Its cold! They didn't even let it get to room temperature.

“Please move your hand please”. They take a couple of pictures and ask me to move on my back. Awkward with a tube in your bum. Then on to my right side. My bag is almost filled and I tell them. They turn off the tap. “Please move your hand”. My skeletal hand is on the picture. I am supporting the bag as it will detach if I don't. I am told to turn back over on to my left side। The radiologist does the most bizarre and physics defying thing. She starts to drain my pouch contents via the catheter and asks "is your bag emptying now?". The iced water is not even in contact with the stoma. "No, that's not going to work. Please stop before you hurt me." Stupid. Stupid. Tapes are removed. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. “Think of it as a free wax”, the nurse jokes. Its not funny. But it is now. She gets her little revenge. I am certain she will need an enema at some point in her life and karma will be served.

I sit up and look at the monitor. The pouch is illuminated with white light, a narrow white tube of light gently coils up to my right side, its my ileum joining to the surface. No leaks. The pouch is water tight. “It looks okay to me” I say...”Yes, its all good. You can go ahead and get joined back up now”. I am feeling quite elated and surprised and my own delight. I am smiling. I jump down from the bed forgetting I have a pouch full of fluid inside me and a full bag of iced water. The clock is ticking...I need to get to a toilet

“Can I have a polaroid?”

“No, we can't do that”.

“But they could with the scans of children when they were in utero”.

“Sorry, no.”

“What would you say the capacity is of the pouch at the moment?”

“There is no way we can work that out”.

Seems ridiculous to me that they can't and on the way home I figure out how easy it would be for them to calculate it.

As I am taking a final mental picture of the screen.

The nurse asks me “Do you have a medical background?”

“You could say that..”

I fly to the toilet. Go. Dress and get out of the hospital as soon as possible.