My First Colonoscopy: What to Expect, How to Prep, and the Real Sh*t No One Tells You

What to Expect During Your First Colonoscopy

Let’s get this out of the way: yes, this is a blog about my butt. And yes, I’m writing it because no one else warned me how utterly bizarre, humbling, and weirdly empowering a colonoscopy can be. If you're someone navigating midlife, female, and have a digestive system (spoiler: you do), this one's for you.

I had my first colonoscopy recently, and while it wasn’t glamorous, it was eye-opening — and not just for the doctor. I’m talking about the emotional rollercoaster of anxiety, poop fear, control issues, and ultimately, a huge sigh of relief. So buckle up — or, you know, unbuckle — because I’m about to walk you through what really happens when you go down the colonoscopy rabbit hole.

Why the Hell Was I Even Doing This?

I didn’t have symptoms. I didn’t have family history. I had… vibes. And a very persuasive doctor who reminded me that colon cancer is on the rise in women. Pair that with my love of control and a tiny obsession with health optimization, and I thought: screw it. Let’s get this done before it gets scary.

Also? I’m a planner. If something’s lurking in the shadows of my gut, I want to know now — not when I’m too tired to deal with it.

So, I booked it. Then I did what every normal woman does: spiraled into a Google hole and texted 14 friends asking if I was going to sh*t myself to death.

Colonoscopy Prep: A Rite of Passage in Liquid Regret

If the colonoscopy were a movie, the prep would be the horror scene before the resolution. It’s the emotional and physical purge no one prepares you for — except every woman who says things like, “Oh honey, stock up on wet wipes.”

Let me break it down:

The Day Before

• You can’t eat solid food. I repeat: you cannot chew anything. Just clear liquids. That means broth, tea, Jell-O (NOT red or purple), apple juice, and vibes.

• I was hangry by noon. And also questioning all my life choices.

  
  

The Prep Drink

This is the main event. Picture this: you’re chugging 64 ounces of salty, slightly citrus toilet water. It’s not painful, but it is relentless. You drink one glass every 15 minutes like it’s a sad sorority dare.

And then — oh, then — it begins.

You don’t poop. You evacuate. You become a faucet. Your body turns into Niagara Falls in reverse. It’s not painful. Just unstoppable.

Pro tips I wish someone screamed at me beforehand:

• Wet wipes > toilet paper. Trust me.

• Have a cozy bathroom setup: candle, podcast, maybe even a footstool.

• Don’t stray far. You will regret it.

  
  

The Emotional Spiral Nobody Talks About

Listen, this isn’t just about poop. It’s about control, vulnerability, and staring at your naked reflection at 2 a.m. wondering who the hell you even are anymore.

Midlife has a way of stripping us down — and this experience? Literal stripping. You’re raw. Hungry. Sleep-deprived. And weirdly introspective.

I cried on prep night. Not because I was in pain — but because the process of letting go (in every way) shook something loose in me. I’m not just shedding the contents of my colon. I’m shedding the perfectionism, the fear of being “too much,” and the need to be in charge of everything.

Procedure Day: Yes, They Really Do Knock You Out

You arrive. You’re in sweats. You haven’t eaten in 24 hours. You’re stripped of dignity and carbs.

The staff? Lovely. Angels in scrubs. They’ve seen it all. You’re not their weirdest case today.

They stick an IV in your hand, ask you some questions, and wheel you in.

Then — BOOM — propofol hits. It’s like an instant, luxurious nap. You’re not aware, not dreaming, not feeling a thing.

You wake up and it’s over. You might fart. A lot. Everyone pretends it’s normal. Because it is.

They give you crackers. You feel high, relieved, hungry, and deeply grateful for anesthesia.

What I Learned (Beyond the Biology)

1. Our bodies deserve care, not shame. We’ve been taught to be embarrassed by the messy parts. But this process made me appreciate my body more than ever. She did her job. And so did I.

2. Avoidance is not power. Knowing what’s going on inside me is real power. It’s not fun, but it’s freeing.

3. Every woman needs a hype squad. I texted my friends about every step and they came through with love, poop jokes, and solidarity. Find your people.

4. You can do hard, weird things. This season of life is full of bizarre milestones. Embrace them. Laugh at them. Blog about them.

So Get the Damn Colonoscopy

If your doctor recommends it, it’s time. If you’re scared, good. Do it scared. If you’re grossed out, same. Do it anyway.

Don’t let silence or stigma keep you from doing something that could literally save your life.

This isn’t just about colon health. It’s about taking control. About refusing to be quiet or scared about your own body. About showing up — even when it’s uncomfortable.

You are not too young. You are not too busy. You are not too anything.

You are worth the prep, the procedure, and the peace of mind.

Now go schedule the damn thing. And buy extra toilet paper while you’re at it.

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