I have had a problem over the last year with a burning sensation in my stomach after eating. During a holiday about four weeks ago, I had a severe reflux attack, two nights running. For those who don't know what that is, I can explain. It is stomach acid pushing up into the unprotected lining of the oesophagus (gullet), and this happened when I was asleep. It woke me up and I was choking for breath.
After the holiday, and almost daily occurrences of indigestion and burning sensations, I decided to get it checked out with the doc, particularly as my Mum died of stomach cancer when she was my age. The doc gave me referral to a consultant to carry out a gastroscopy. This entails passing a tube with a light and camera through the mouth and down the oesophagus into the stomach, then out into the duodenum up to the first bend, and that is a long way down. If something nasty is seen on camera, they can then pass a sampling device down the tube and do a biopsy to check for cancerous cells.
Prior to the procedure I had to fill in a questionnaire, have heart rate and blood pressure checked, and sign a consent form. I was told it would only take two minutes from start to finish. I had two options upfront. One option was to be given a sedative, which essentially knocks you out for the duration, and when you wake up, you don't remember anything about the procedure, or be given a spray anesthetic in the mouth and tongue to dull discomfort. The former means at least a twenty four hour recovery period, and the latter just half an hour. I opted foolishly for the latter.
The consultant who grunted at me and who seemed to have a personality bypass, proceeded to spray the inside of my mouth with Xylocaine, a local anesthetic. Very quickly my mouth became numb, and I laid down on my side on the op table ready for the consultant. He appeared in front of me, bedecked in what looked like a butcher's apron wielding this incredibly long black tube. He put a large plastic moulding between my teeth rather irreverently, and inserted the tube into my mouth and over my tongue until it reached the opening of the oesophagus.
The assistant was very good, constantly reassuring me about the procedure, and then told me that this was the worst bit. I felt the tube deep down on the back edge of my tongue, and was told to swallow. This simply resulted in me gagging and reaching. I was told to swallow again, and then the tube seemed to pass through into the right direction (i.e. not into my trachea). The sensation was one of the most unpleasant experiences of my life, and I was constantly gagging and reaching, but of course nothing could take away the feeling of the tube now descending down my gullet.
For a short while, and once the tube reached my stomach, it seemed to ease the unpleasant sensation. However, the worst was yet to come. Air under pressure was sent down into my stomach to inflate it for viewing purposes, and immediately the nausea returned and I was reaching again, explosively forcing the alien air back out of my stomach. This happened about three times, and by then I was a quivering wreck. I could feel the intrusive tube wriggling around in my stomach and then exit into the duodenum. I never thought that I would be able to feel or sense anything that far down.
The tube was then slowly withdrawn back into the top of my stomach, and the consultant paused the procedure, and ask the nurse for the biopsy device. This took the form of a remote snipper/sampler that fitted down the centre of the tube. It was fed down the tube and a sample was taken. My heart sank at this point, knowing that something had been found that needed post procedure checks. More air pumped down, and more explosive reaching and gagging followed. Then...relief as the whole tube had been withdrawn. The consuatant then sat down with his back to me and started entering data into his computer. He may have grunted again, I don't remember.
I sat on the edge of the table wiping the saliva and tears from my face, and was traumatised by the whole thing. It was much, much worse than I expected or ever imagined. It took me a full half hour to recover, and when I could actually sip some water. My wife then drove me home.
Now, I have never experienced torture before, but this must be a good representation of the real thing.
May I take this opportunity to all reading this, and whoever has to have this procedure, take the first option, the sedative route. Others who have taken this route have had a far better experience.
The results? A small hiatus hernia, and mild gastritis. The former requiring no medication, the latter an anti-biotic which should clear the whole thing up, and no cancerous cells. Good news!
After the holiday, and almost daily occurrences of indigestion and burning sensations, I decided to get it checked out with the doc, particularly as my Mum died of stomach cancer when she was my age. The doc gave me referral to a consultant to carry out a gastroscopy. This entails passing a tube with a light and camera through the mouth and down the oesophagus into the stomach, then out into the duodenum up to the first bend, and that is a long way down. If something nasty is seen on camera, they can then pass a sampling device down the tube and do a biopsy to check for cancerous cells.
Prior to the procedure I had to fill in a questionnaire, have heart rate and blood pressure checked, and sign a consent form. I was told it would only take two minutes from start to finish. I had two options upfront. One option was to be given a sedative, which essentially knocks you out for the duration, and when you wake up, you don't remember anything about the procedure, or be given a spray anesthetic in the mouth and tongue to dull discomfort. The former means at least a twenty four hour recovery period, and the latter just half an hour. I opted foolishly for the latter.
The consultant who grunted at me and who seemed to have a personality bypass, proceeded to spray the inside of my mouth with Xylocaine, a local anesthetic. Very quickly my mouth became numb, and I laid down on my side on the op table ready for the consultant. He appeared in front of me, bedecked in what looked like a butcher's apron wielding this incredibly long black tube. He put a large plastic moulding between my teeth rather irreverently, and inserted the tube into my mouth and over my tongue until it reached the opening of the oesophagus.
The assistant was very good, constantly reassuring me about the procedure, and then told me that this was the worst bit. I felt the tube deep down on the back edge of my tongue, and was told to swallow. This simply resulted in me gagging and reaching. I was told to swallow again, and then the tube seemed to pass through into the right direction (i.e. not into my trachea). The sensation was one of the most unpleasant experiences of my life, and I was constantly gagging and reaching, but of course nothing could take away the feeling of the tube now descending down my gullet.
For a short while, and once the tube reached my stomach, it seemed to ease the unpleasant sensation. However, the worst was yet to come. Air under pressure was sent down into my stomach to inflate it for viewing purposes, and immediately the nausea returned and I was reaching again, explosively forcing the alien air back out of my stomach. This happened about three times, and by then I was a quivering wreck. I could feel the intrusive tube wriggling around in my stomach and then exit into the duodenum. I never thought that I would be able to feel or sense anything that far down.
The tube was then slowly withdrawn back into the top of my stomach, and the consultant paused the procedure, and ask the nurse for the biopsy device. This took the form of a remote snipper/sampler that fitted down the centre of the tube. It was fed down the tube and a sample was taken. My heart sank at this point, knowing that something had been found that needed post procedure checks. More air pumped down, and more explosive reaching and gagging followed. Then...relief as the whole tube had been withdrawn. The consuatant then sat down with his back to me and started entering data into his computer. He may have grunted again, I don't remember.
I sat on the edge of the table wiping the saliva and tears from my face, and was traumatised by the whole thing. It was much, much worse than I expected or ever imagined. It took me a full half hour to recover, and when I could actually sip some water. My wife then drove me home.
Now, I have never experienced torture before, but this must be a good representation of the real thing.
May I take this opportunity to all reading this, and whoever has to have this procedure, take the first option, the sedative route. Others who have taken this route have had a far better experience.
The results? A small hiatus hernia, and mild gastritis. The former requiring no medication, the latter an anti-biotic which should clear the whole thing up, and no cancerous cells. Good news!
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