My second cousin sent me this today and I must share it because Ladies and Gents I have been there. Right there. Last year, as a matter of fact. And because I have been there I’ve inserted a few notes in italics. Hope you enjoy. :)
“Colonoscopy Journal:
I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis. Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn’t really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, “HE’S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BEHIND!”
I left Andy’s office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called ‘MoviPrep’. which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in deatil later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America’s enemies.
I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous.
Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn’t eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor. Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons.) then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes – and here I am being kind – like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.
The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, ‘a loose, watery bowel movement may result’. This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.
MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don’t want to be too graphic here, but, have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.
(I have to say this was exactly my experience too, and it explained why, at the drugstore, when the pharmacists filled my prescription for the ghastly stuff one cringed, the other looked sympathetic, and the third giggled uncontrollably and wished me luck.)
After an action-packed evening I finally got to sleep.
Then next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, “What if I spurt on Andy?” How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.
At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people,…
(And there is no eye contact whatsoever between the ‘victims’, I noticed. We all sat silently nervous like lambs before the slaughter.)
….where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.
Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn’t thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.
When everything was ready Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point.
Andy had me roll over onto my left side and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room and I realized that the song was ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, ‘Dancing Queen’ had to be the least appropriate.
“You want me to turn it up?” said Andy, from somewhere behind me.
“Ha ha,” I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like. I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment ABBA was yelling ‘Dancing Queen, feel the beat of the tambourine, and the next moment I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood.
(Most of the days preceding my colonoscopy were spent dreading the fact that some strange man, albeit a highly educated and skilled strange man for whom I was most likely not a test run, was going to touch me… you know… down there. There are members of my family I’ve known since birth who’ve never touched me down there. They’ve been lucky if they even got a quick glimpse of down there. When I was at the same point in my procedure as the story I was still awake, I’d made it up on the table and the nurse wrapped my hips in a sterile sheet, but I never felt the doctor touch me anywhere. He must’ve Uri Geller-ed the camera into position. I do remember there being a 20 inch television hanging off the wall in front of me and he asked if I wanted to watch. I’m like dude, you’re about to stick a tiny camera mounted on a 17,000 foot tube up my rear end and you ask me if I want to watch? There isn’t enough money in the entire world. Thankfully some time between his asking and my horrified look over my shoulder at him I passed out. I do have to admit the drugs were really good, though.)
Andy was looking down at me and asking how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.
On the subject of Colonsocopies… Colonoscopies are no joke, but these comments made during the exam were quite humorous. A physician claimed that the following are actual comments made by his patients (predominantly male) while he was performing their colonoscopies:
1. ‘Take it easy, Doc. You’re boldly going where no man has gone before!’
2. ‘Find Amelia Earhart yet?’
3. ‘Can you hear me NOW?’
4. ‘Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?’
5. ‘You know, in Arkansas , we’re now legally married.’
6. ‘Any sign of the trapped miners, Chief?’
7. ‘You put your left hand in, you take your left hand out…’
8. ‘Hey! Now I know how a Muppet feels!’
9. ‘If your hand doesn’t fit, you must quit!’
10. ‘Hey Doc, let me know if you find my dignity.’
11. ‘You used to be an executive at Enron, didn’t you?’
12. ‘God, now I know why I am not gay.’
And the best one of all:
13. ‘Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head is not up there?’
(Me again. No idea who the author of this entry is. When/If I find out who wrote it I’ll provide the cite.)
