Wednesday, June 25, 2008

 

Only from Dave Barry

This is from newshound Dave Barry's colonoscopy journal:...

I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make anappointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andyshowed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appearsto go all over the place, at one point passing briefly throughMinneapolis. Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in athorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but Ididn'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 aprescription for a product called 'MoviPrep,' which comes in a boxlarge enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep indetail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it tofall 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 mypreparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat anysolid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor. Then, in the evening, I took theMoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-literplastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For thoseunfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons.) Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, becauseMoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a mixture of goatspit 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 youjump 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 muchthe 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 drinkanother liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, yourbowels travel into the future and st ar t eliminating food that youhave 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 l efthand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and Iwas 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 tomake it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full FireHose 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 rollover on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking somethingup to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, andI realized that the song was 'Dancing Queen' by ABBA I remarked toAndy that, of all the son gs that could be playing during thisparticular procedure, 'Dancing Queen' has to be the least appropriate.'You want me to turn it up?' said Andy, from somewhere behind me. 'Haha,' I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading formore 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.

Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for the Miami Herald.

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