Colonoscopy

[Guest guest]

Forwarded message:

This is from newshound Dave Barry's 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, 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 for

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, 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 star t 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.

W hen 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 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. 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.

ABOUT THE WRITER Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for

the Miami Herald.

[Guest guest]

Terrific! That was one of the finest toilet humour that I have ever read.

Kishore Shah 1974

Colonoscopy

[Guest guest]

I wonder how many here have read Dave Barry's " the joys of sex and making

babies " - his funniest book. If you haven't read it, do buy it whenever, its

a must read.

Not for the moral brigade though.

Ravin '82

> Terrific! That was one of the finest toilet humour that I have ever

> read.

>

> Kishore Shah 1974

>

> Colonoscopy

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

That was really in depth study.

tejinder S Sandhu (76 )

Dr_Ravin Das wrote:

Forwarded message:

This is from newshound Dave Barry's 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, 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 for

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, 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 star t 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.

W hen 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 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. 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.

ABOUT THE WRITER Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for

the Miami Herald.