I have recently had my third colonoscopy. That may seem like a lot, but over the course of several decades, that’s pretty reasonable.
For those of you who have not had the privilege of this experience, allow me to explain. The colonoscopy is a diagnostic examination wherein a medical professional armed with a flexible camera, enters the nether regions of your digestive system and takes a series of glamour shots just to see what’s in there.
At this point in my life, a colonoscopy is just another minor inconvenience to ensure good health.
“Honey,” the wife said two days before my procedure, “your colonoscopy is coming up on Wednesday. I have not noticed your usual pre-procedure angst. No night sweats, no nail-biting, no pacing to the freezer for Dove bars to calm you down. What’s up? Why so calm?”
“I’ve been through this before. I know what to expect. It’s just a minor inconvenience.”
“Do you remember your first colonoscopy? You were a terrified mess.”
“I do remember,” I said. “I envisioned instruments of torture like cattle prods, post-hole diggers, and jack hammers probing the inner most recesses of my jelly belly. I imagined being up on a hydraulic lift as a team of technicians took turns poking me, laughing at my every squirm. They were placing bets as to how many polyps this chubby 50 year old had. It was a nightmare.”
“Chuckling at my memories the wife said, “ And that was before you knew what was going to happen on prep day. …”
“Oh, my gosh! Prep day for the colonoscopy can only be described as the 100 meter dash to the porcelain finish line. I had to drink a gallon of what can only be described as a salty cocktail called the Excrete-orita. It is designed to turn your colon upside down, shake out all its contents, including a few vital organs, and then have you praying for the sweet relief of death.”
“Honey,” the wife said, “while I agree that there is a small amount of unpleasantness to prep day, I don’t ever recall praying for an end to my existence. That seems a bit severe for a few hours of the trots.”
“Who trots? It’s a full-speed-ahead, get the heck out of my way, gallop. Seriously, if anyone wants to win the Boston Marathon, they only heed to hydrate with a cocktail of Excrete-orita.”
“Well, Dear,” the wife said, “I’m glad to see that your previous experiences with the colonoscopy have prepared you for the procedure and that you have no fear or anxiety for your upcoming procedure. Now, tomorrow we start you on a liquid diet, clear drinks, broths, and Jell-o.”
“What? No burgers? No ice cream? No cheese curls? No donuts?”
“None of that. You are strictly on a clear diet.”
“Beer is pretty clear. Can I have a couple of those?”
“Water, tea, and ginger ale are your beverage choices. Alcohol is not allowed. It can dehydrate you.”
“Well,” I said, “what do you think Excrete-oritas do? I’ve seen succulents with more water than me on prep day!”
Clicking her tongue and shaking her head the wife said, “My colonoscopies have never had me praying for the sweet relief of death … but yours sure do.”
The procedure all went well. The doc said I had the colon of a 25 year old. Then he said, “ You’d better give it back because you’re getting it all wrinkled. …”
