TGIF/Dave Barry's colonoscopy journal

[Guest guest]

I really miss Dave Barry's Miami Herald column, but this is great!

Penny

Anyone over 50 who has kept up with the 'required tests' should

appreciate

this one....

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

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 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.

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