The main topic this week is colonoscopies. For those of you young enough to not know what that is: YAY! A colonoscopy is where you are at your most vulnerable and naked in a flimsy piece of cloth that passes for a gown. Then you're wheeled into a cold room and a doctor shoves several thousand feet of tubing with an attached camera up your nether behind region looking for bad things. That alone is a good enough reason to avoid finding yourself naked with a thin piece of cloth, in a bright, cold room and a camera shoved up your nether behind region. If you've ever experienced colonoscopies first hand, you'll know what I'm talking about.
Did I mention that my doctor is a sadist? For some crazy reason, he insists I get a colonoscopy every three to five years or so due to cancer running rampant in my family. I took this as a sign to never 'rock the boat' by not giving my doctor the chance to deliver any bad news. I'm only thinking of him. No news is good news, right?
I went in for my annual checkup which I don't mind since our family doctor almost never touches me in my nether behind region. I have another doctor for that although he specializes in my nether frontal region. Anyway, he checked my chart and informed me that I may have missed my last two or three (or more) colonoscopies. I have a very good excuse for that–I didn't wanna.
After a few threats, I caved and agreed to let my doctor set up the procedure. I was instructed to go to the pharmacy to pick up the 'drain cleaner' that cleaned me out so completely I passed food I hadn't even eaten yet. This enabled my doctor the ability to run a 2,000-foot hose up my nether behind region, known medically as my lower backsideular zone.
Now the fun begins (not). Two days before my procedure, I was instructed to eat a low fiber diet. The day before I had to spend the day drinking the drain cleaner. If you've never had the pleasure let me enlighten you. It tastes like very salty urine mixed with dog spit. In other words, gross. If that's not bad enough, you also have to drink a few gallons of water and repeat the whole process four hours later. I did get to drink all the pop, tea, etc. I wanted, as long as it wasn't red or purple, before I started the 'cleansing'. I was allowed chicken broth which ain't so bad when you're starving. It tastes like salty water with a hint of a quickly dipped naked chicken.
The drain cleaner did not play nice with me. Oh, it cleaned me out all right. Unfortunately, a lot of it came back up about as fast as it went down. I think it actually improved the taste.
When I arrived at the clinic, before they'd agree to take me, the nice lady at the front desk insisted I sign a form stating I understood and agreed to whatever was on all the other forms. That's how they get ya. They shove the forms at you so fast you have no idea what you're signing. For all I know, I signed away my still-functioning body parts.
I handed over my driver license and insurance cards along with the forms, then the nurse came and led me to a small cubby with a bed, nightstand, and only a cloth curtain separating me from the dozen people waiting for the same procedure. I informed the nurse that I had 'recycled' most of the liquid but she didn't seem concerned. I imagine she wasn't since she wouldn't be the one dealing with my nether behind region.
I undressed and put on the little strip of thin cloth that passes for a gown and was told to not tie it. If I had to go to the bathroom I was in big trouble. There was barely enough material to cover my front side. My backside was on its own.
Fortunately, unlike the last one, this colonoscopy was all clear and I went home with a sense of pride for my clean colon as well as gas–lots and lots of gas. It's been a couple of days since I had the procedure and I'm still passing gas like a Beaded Lacewing.
On a serious note, if you're 50 or older, please do not hesitate to schedule a colonoscopy. The only bad side is drinking the prep. The good side is you wake up feeling like you've had the best nap of your life and your colon will be clean as a whistle–for a few days.
Now go get checked.