Since I'm getting ready for my "Super Fun" colonoscopy in the next few days, I thought I'd share a great story from Dave Berry. I mean who doesn't like Dave Berry? He's a very humorous writer. Anyways, when I had a GI procedure earlier this year, I got this from my brother-in-law. This makes me laugh every time I read it. We've been having colon talk in the office today, since three of us are slated for "scopes" this month. I'm really looking forward to having the medical camcorder shoved up my rump...AGAIN...! Hopefully they can figure my issues out soon, because I'm losing patience! :)
Dave's Colon Column, Enjoy: 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, quote, '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 or a product called 'MoviPrep, which comes in a
box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss
MoviPrep in detail 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, and 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.
After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The
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, 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 on 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' has 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 shrieking 'Dancing Queen! Feel the beat from the
tambourine' and the next moment, I was back in the other
room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was looking down
at me and asking me 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....
