While intended as humor, this cartoon of mine is genuinely accurate for me.
So yesterday I had my colonoscopy. At 59 it is the third I’ve endured and the second under the miraculous anesthesia called “Twilight”. (Yes that’s right, my first colonoscopy was done while I was awake…..and yes, I did yell out a couple of times.) But if you are either a youngster not yet ripened sufficiently to warrant such intimate scrutiny, or are of age but have been lax about your well-being, then let me tell you: the procedure itself is NOTHING. A cakewalk. So if you have been putting one off based on that fear, schedule one without trepidation. You see, it is not the colonoscopy itself that the initiated dread……..it’s the prior day’s prep, and while that has improved somewhat since a decade ago, it is still ……..unpleasant.
Back in the early days, a colonoscopy meant a day of a clear liquid diet diet and drinking an uber-gallon of foul-tasting laxative that the manufacturers insisted was pleasantly flavored. Now it’s three small bottles, the size of a regular soda, of a sparkling, lemon-flavored and carbonated masking of magnesium citrate. (Think of a ramped-up 7-Up that will give you the runs). In all honesty, while the major soft drink manufacturers have nothing to fear, the stuff I got from Rite-Aid was drinkable without an intense inclination towards retching.
Time passed. I was hungry despite my consumption of broth, white cranberry juice, and sugar-free lime jello, yet I obediently downed my three bottles of magnesium citrate between 4:00 and 8:00 as directed. Nothing happened for a good while after finishing the first bottle. I drank the second and waited. And after one false alarm, it hit like a gastric tsunami: a tidal wave of excrement. At first it wasn’t so bad. It reminded me of an enema without the fun part. But once the ‘solids’ were out, it just kept going. I was already pissing out of my ass by the time I finished my third and last bottle.
And then? It JUST KEPT GOING! Every so often, right until I went to bed at 10:30 I would have to literally bolt to the bathroom. Then again at midnight…………..and again at 1:00am (almost messing my bed) and again at 5:00am. Even after I awoke at 5, I had an impossible time of getting back to sleep. In the morning, I STILL was “going” right up until my shower before being driven to the doctor.
Once there things settled for a while. I waited for my turn as the waiting room TV informed me of the seemingly crucial to some, inane pop culture news-of-the-day via “GMA Daily”. The only non-annoying person on this show was Michael Strahan (whom I once met on a work-thing when he was still playing, and who seemed genuinely like the guy you see on TV….which has always made me think: “why Michael? Why do shit like the gig with Kelly Ripa and now this? You’re better than this.”) I was doing my best to scan e-Bay auctions on my phone and ignore the drivel when the show ended and Kelly Ripa & Ryan Seacrest came on next. Would there be no end to my torture? Mercifully just as I considered tearing off my own head, the technician called me via my commonly-mispronounced name. I thanked her genuinely and she assumed this was due to my waiting. I assured her the wait was quite reasonable and that my gratitude stemmed not from her ending some waiting room impatience but rather from her saving me from Kelly.
“After everything we’ve all been through getting ready for this procedure, why would you subject us to Kelly Ripa?” I asked with a smirk to let her know I was at least partially joking. She laughed which emboldened me to continue. “You know,“ I said, “you guys could promote these procedures as a sort of historical 'Devil’s Island Experience'. You’ll be given a diet of broth, deprived of sleep, and you’ll even feel the effects of dysentery….and then tortured, albeit via daytime television, and interrogated before proceeding. It’s the whole package! You could even put up old “Papillon” movie posters to really sell the idea.” She snickered politely, but I think by now she had sensed the ugly truth beneath my humor.
“Papillon” the 1973 movie………..based on a spurious book where besides the things mentioned, there were also a lot of things going up asses.
While researching this post, I discovered that in TRUE IRONY, Kelly Ripa suffers from “misophonia", and I am SO GLAD since her voice is one of the main contributors to my own misophonia. (link)
I told her that if they found anything of value inside me, we’d split it 50/50. She laughed and told me a related story about a friend who had recently purchased a former “Mafia House” and was being teased about what they’d find in the walls. I suggested they purchase those new wall scanners carpenters are using now and hope they find treasure instead of bodies. She like that a lot, assuring me she would suggest that and cut herself and me in on anything they find! Then she hooked me up intravenously, shot me up and I was OUT!
When I awoke, I felt of all things…..talkative. But it passed before I drove the young, also Asian, assistant helping me crazy. At this point my Honey, Rosa, joined me as we discussed my results with the doctor…………..which were…………..GOOD! He removed one tiny polyp he had little concern over, told me I had very mild hemorrhoids (which I have had since I was 19) and said he’d “see me again in 5 years”. Since the colonoscopy ruled out anything ‘bad’ as the cause of some gastric issues I’ve been having, I am to have a very simple test for something else. But it’s nothing major…….a topic for another day.
So………………..I’m DONE! Rosa has had her endoscopy and is finishing treatment for h.pylori. Her biopsy came back good. My two hernia surgeries are done and healing nicely (I have a belly-button again!)…….and my colonoscopy was also all good news. So it’s time to finally take a breath, enjoy life and the upcoming holidays, and hope the market recovers from the nosedive it just took. Maybe Rosa and I can finally get back to some naughty adult fun?
And who knows? Maybe we can even bring Nickki in on some "fun" once I'm fully healed?
EDITED TO ADD: On a serious note, after publishing this post, I got to read something on Tomy's Blog (linked) that I am recommending as "essential reading" for anyone who practices (or has practiced) DD with a loved one and sometimes wonders about their role, not just in the relationship, but in life itself. If unlike the Scarecrow & Tin Man, you have both a brain AND a heart, you owe it to yourself to read Tomy's eloquent post.