When we all hit the ripe age over 50 it is suggested to have a colonoscopy procedure to check for cancer and weird anal intrusions. I have a few friends that have gone through the ordeal fairly easily. You take a colon cleanser the day before, the following day you are mildly sedated while a camera searches your colon. Twenty minutes later you're driven home and rest. Sounds pretty simple.
I received a gallon container nearly half filled with cleanser. I have been warned to stay home, do not stray far from a toilet and have plenty of toilet paper and wipees.
I take my first dose around 6pm, with another one every twenty minutes until almost finished. I'm expecting some sort of instant mad dash to the bathroom but really nothing happens.
My second dose still feel about the same. This is like dropping acid and waiting for the effect. Third dose still feeling nothing. So like any recreational drug user I amp up the dose and frequency, that ought to get the juices flowing or at least create an LSD induced sparkle, which brings back “Blueboy” Dragnet flashbacks.
Finally after a half an hour my colon slot machine came up all cherries and I trotted off to the bathroom parade.
I was cautious not eating much the day earlier, mostly liquid diet. I envisioned revisiting the mounds of bubble gum swallowed, whole gum drops and wheat pennies I gulped down as a tot coming out in the mix.
But nothing. Just a plain ol' poop. A few minutes later, like the doctors predicted, another poop but nothing that exciting. In fact, not even good enough for Facebook pictures.
Strangely after a while I am just passing liquid, nothing solid, just weird yellow butt pee. Once the medicine did kick in I quickly went from Hershey Squirts to just plain Squirt! A weird yellow butt pee with nothing solid and a few phantom poops; which is when you know you crapped but nothing in the toilet. Just nothing there, weird.
After 3 hours of square dance moves to and fro the bathroom I am cleansed and clean. While my rear end feels like sandpaper, even using wipees.
I go to bed waiting for my alien probe the following day.
The following morning I am starved but only can drink more cleanser. I figure by afternoon the ordeal will be over and I can feast like Henry the VIII.
The endosocopy center is on Main Street right on the curve of the hill. Hit the fifth floor and greeted to a waiting room of nervous looking patients, all there for the same thing, the uneasy task of having someone check out their butt!
I'm escorted to a curtained room where of course an attractive nurse asks me to disrobe except for my socks. I don't question the the socks thing but things its odd, maybe if there is a fire I can run easier.
I put on my gown realizing what I sight I must be. With my gait of a lumbersome big foot from behind I must look like two midget skinheads walking hand in hand.
A couple more nurses check my vitals while asking me questions about my bowels. I'm covered by a warmed blanket and feel pretty cozy. They chuckle when I say "butt pee."
The doctor comes out to meet me and I think this guy earns every dollar. You think you work with a bunch of assholes? This is all this guy deals with plus he has to stare right square in one brown eye one after another! Opinions and assholes, everyone has one.
I'm wheeled into the procedure room. Hearing the word procedure just has a creepy tinge to it when presented medically. A male nurse asks me to lay on my side, bring my knees up to my chest, point my butt his direction and scooch closer. Not exactly the most comforting words to hear from someone before they knock you out and play Red Rover with your colon.
I had never been sedated before, so I wasn't sure what to expect. A spiritual awakening? Contact with past lives or deceased friends? I'm being twilighted, which is just partially being put under. Maybe reruns of Twilight Zone will run through my brain.
Nope. No such luck. I dont remember a damn thing.
I wake up in the curtained room. I groggily ask if the procedure has started. Nurses and my wife are staring at me lovingly. It felt like the ending of Wizard of Oz. Everyone glad I'm safe and made it back. I'm trying to figure out why I feel like a violated flying monkey.
After lose some of my fogginess a nurse politely asks me to "toot." Since air is pumped into your colon, like a rectal wind sock, the patient needs to rid excess air.
But I'm thinking toot? Really? Toot?
I have passed more gas in my life than your corner service station, damn near able to tune a piano to my "perfect c" note anal pitch. I have cup-a-fart, lit farts, and vowed to haunt my enemies with stank flatulence upon my demise. No moment is inappropriate. In fact I'm so proud that while some blame it on the dog, I'll probably own up to my own and the dog's as well! Volume, odor and consistency are my specialties.
The funny thing that’s happening now—I can't fart. The nurse positions me a few turns with no luck. So I'm panicking thinking someone has broken the magical butt trumpet? Have I bleated my last note? Fortunately, after some time and tinkering, old faithful blasted a semi-truck fart that even the most seasoned truck driver would blush in envy.
The staff says the results will be ready in two days. As long as they don't find the cast of "Honey I Shrunk the Kids" or a gerbil skeleton in the analysis I'll be relieved knowing nothing happened the week I was in Chicago the same time as Richard Gere was.
I get dressed and wheeled down to my car. That night I felt horrible, didn't eat, just weak. Feelings of a hangover without the fun part of being tipsy. I felt better the next day, checking my ass to see if any staff "owned me" while I was passed out or at least sketched a "kilroy" on my butt cheeks. Nope. Nothing. Wow, these people are real professionals!
Fortunately, I got a clean bill of health, not even polyps. No need to return for another 10 years.
In all seriousness the staff at the endoscopy was great and made everyone and myself comfortable. They couldn't have been better. Having a camera slid up your butt is a funny thought but it does save lives. Everyone should have done after the age of 50.
It helps to make light of serious subjects like this, everyone has some funny/weird thought when you say "colon exam" "rectal camera" or "Miley Cyrus." Worse yet, "Miley Cyrus rectal exam!"
I still wonder what happened to all that bubblegum and wheat pennies I swallowed as kid.
Related Posts: School’s Out...Forever, Past Gas and Last Comic Standing.
