I really, really have so much to tell you.
My life is really, really upside down right now.
I have things to tell you about a photography class I took, stories from emptying my mom's house, the Hello Soul, Hello Business class I'm taking, a little bit of artwork I'm doing.
But the upside down part is getting in the way.
Like getting notices from my mom's insurance company telling me they are canceling the fire policy on her house and I have to find a new one. The electricity meter-reader-guy couldn't get to the meter to read it, so I have to call them. Oh, and they will cancel all utilities unless I get everything transferred to my name. (Which costs extra) Not to mention every day life at my house....and a little procedure called a colonoscopy that I've put off no less than three times due to upside-down-ness. I have lost count of how many I have had, thanks to having Ulcerative Colitis.
Today is a day where I can have only clear liquids and the real fun begins around 6 p.m. and then again at 3 a.m. About 2 hours into not eating and I'm a total mess, no matter how much broth I have.
All that to say, is that I'm really, really looking forward to posting, but today I'll leave you with my favorite article by Dave Barry regarding having a colonoscopy.
This is from Miami Herald's 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, cle arly 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
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 is, but then I pondered what would happen if y ou 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' had 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&n bsp;
mellow mood. Andy was looking down at me a nd 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. On the subject of Colonoscopies...
Colonoscopies are no joke, but these comments during the exam were
quite humorous..... A physician claimed that the following are
actual comments made by his patients (predominately male) while he
was performing their colonoscopies:
1. 'Take it easy, Doc. You're boldly going where no man has gone ; before!
2. 'Find Amelia Earhart yet?'
3. 'Can you hear me NOW?'
4. 'Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?'
5. 'You know, in Arkansas , we're now legally married.'
6. 'Any sign of the trapped miners, Chief?'
7 'You put your left hand in, you take your left hand out...'
8. 'Hey! Now I know how a Muppet feels!'
9. 'If your hand doesn't fit, you must quit!
10. 'Hey Doc, let me know if you find my dignity.'
11. 'You used to be an executive at Enron, didn't you?
And the best one of all.
12. 'Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head is not
Eat something for me today, 'cause I'm seriously considering going to the liquor store and buying vodka.