Excerpt 3 - Barium Meal

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If you want to stop worrying about having to undergo a barium meal, have a barium enema first – it’s ten times worse, even though you don’t have to drink the sludge.

The process begins by completely stripping away any remaining shreds of your dignity. As usual, you are vulnerably naked beneath the oversize gown with the added feature that you are face down with your bum sticking in the air. But it’s not all bad news: at least you don’t have to watch the approach of the implement that will soon be inserted within, like some poor terrified wretch watching Vincent Price approach with the thumbscrews. The tube itself can’t be too wide a bore as it goes in without excessive eye-watering, and then the initial flow of the liquid barium is something you hardly perceive at all. All would be well if this was the extent of the procedure, but for the radiographer to get good pictures on the X-ray machine, she needs to dilate your large bowel to several times life size, a feat she accomplishes with the use of compressed air.

Just as I was wondering what the hissing noise was, I found out the hard way as enough air was pumped into me to inflate the tyres of a double decker bus. When you think you will either explode or faint from the intense discomfort, your system submits and goes into reverse, allowing the air to pass further upstream. This natural safety valve lessens the pain – although you still feel as bloated as the Goodyear blimp – but then your relief that the worst may be over is swept away as you get another top-up from the 30psi line. This is repeated time after time, all the while being exhorted by the staff not to let pass any of the by now barium equivalent of a very well shaken bottle of Diet Coke seeded with three packets of Mentos. So you clench your cheeks as though attempting to crack walnuts and try not to imagine the ignominy of pebble-dashing the entire room. The procedure seems to last forever, but it does of course finally pass, as does the largest fart of your life once you are ushered to the adjoining toilet where you hang onto the seat to avoid shooting up to the ceiling like a badly tied balloon at a birthday party.