The Colonoscopy (Why is God Angry With Me?)

Today's selection is at the suggestion of my personal life coach and Sherpa Tim Tiemann. I am not going to even begin the long winded story of WHY I am to get the second colonoscopy in two years. I am not even going to particularly dwell on being in hour 24 of a fasting process as demanded by the Nazi doctors of Barnes-Jewish Hospital (I know there is somewhat of a disconnect between Barnes-Jewish and Nazi but you will have to allow me a little artistic license here). What i want to talk about is the preparation process so that your colon and the related piping are clean enough for the doctor to... do his thing the next day.

1st they send you a box. Seriously, it is a box with a plastic jug and 4 flavor packets with a bunch of stuff in the bottom of it. They also send with two tablets. At noon you take the two tablets and fill the jug with tap water and a flavor packet. You then refrigerate it for 6 hours. Not five. Not four, not seven. SIX HOURS. I took the tablets at 1:30 and went home and mixed everything up and...went back to work. After a good afternoon at work, then night court for my own tickets, then home to eat some broth...it is now time.

They tell you to drink 8 ounces every ten minutes and it is now six minutes after the first glass. I chose lemon-lime flavoring over cherry or orange or strawberry. I am now watching "Super Bad" . The stuff tastes chalky and they advise to drink each glass quickly rather then slowly so I chugged the whole thing. 7 minutes later and I feel pressure... pressure. Watching the cops and Mc Lubben shooting guns is taking my mind off of it and to be fair, the pressure is subtle as I count down to the next, chilled glass of chalky, lemony, limey stuff.

Boom. Second glass down. I think i might be consuming slightly more then eight ounces for each glass. Chugging the second glass and already feeling bloated brings on feeling of introspection. What in my life has brought me here? With modern science is their really not a better way to prepare yourself for this. My first one 15 years ago I only had to drink like three glasses of the stuff and I could mix it with 7-Up and it just WAS NOT THIS BAD! I have some memories from the last one that I did not, could not even finish my jug. Feelings that further exacerbated my general feeling of being a guinea pig in a bad high school science experiment (Here dad...drink this. Why? I want to see what happens to you. Ok). I guess i would do that for my kids. The pressure does not seem much worse then after the first glass but in a few minutes i will hit the third one and will have at least 24 ounces sloshing in my belly.

Third one...done. Gagged a little (but just a little). Now I am feeling like one of those poor biafran children who you see with flies swarming around their rheumy eyes with the distended bellies. Still not a lot of pressure but just pure discomfort at having so much liquid dumped directly down my gullet. It looks like I am about half done which means I have been breaking the rules because I should only be about 3/8th done. At this point I am feeling a little bit of anger. Normally when you have a taste this foul in your mouth you are entitled to get yourself a cracker or something else to eat to take the foul, wretched taste out of your mouth. But not now! No, I am fasting. Oops....first major involuntary cramp. I must say....it hurts. I am a pussy.

The fourth glass. I really cannot believe that anyone who cared at all about people would force another person to drink this stuff. By all that is holy.... Becoming too bloated to even type. I have seen how this movie ends. One word... poorly. I am taking the current book I am reading... "The Girl Who Played With Fire" and setting it by the toilet... so I do not have to remember. Things appear to be moving under my skin as in a bad science fiction movie and my stomach is making.... sounds. Lets call them unhappy sounds.

Not to digress but the purpose of this is of course.... to have a clear stool. I have not yet made the trip but it is my profound hope that I will live long enough to make the report. Though I am sorely tempted to photograph it.... especially for Tiemann, I feel that even for me, that might violate some essential code of decency that I have not breached...yet. Give me time. They don't really tell you when you are supposed to poop. it is like a special secret that they cannot share. I mean think about this, 8 glasses, one every ten minutes...just 80 minutes of your life. Are you supposed to make it the whole time...can I make it through 80 minutes?

Vegas odds say 23-1 to one against. Seriously, check it. They are posting it and people all over the country are betting on my colon. Seriously, I picture like 60,000 people with 'Vuvuzelas' are making that awful, bees buzzing, geese getting brutally murdered sound in support...of my kidneys...and my colon. OH GOD! That was the fifth. There really is nothing but discomfort now. Still pressing on and not feeling a huge need to go....just feeling soooo bad. Gagged down glass number five and spilled a little down the front of my shirt and was happy just to spill some. Spilling is good. I wish I could spill more. I am reasonably convinced that when I go to pee... everything else will...happen. I need to pee. Crossding my legs.

Number six was kind of a disaster. beginning to consider why I do not have a more active prayer life and thinking that will change immediately. Stomach spasming. The sixth one was a problem because the moment the file crap hit the back of my throat I started to retch and lost the whole mouthful. The best part is you shake it off, breathe, and then chug some more. Awesome. Hungry and bloated and wanting to evacuate whatever is in my bodt through any (and every) orifice. AND YET... and yet what I would not give for even a small bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos just to take this taste out of my mouth.

I am feeling like I am drunk, but unfortunately I am not drunk. I am just miserable and delusional. Two more glasses to choke down but I do NOT think daddy makes it. Watching them puke on Super Bad (perhaps this was a poor choice) is doing nothing to improve my situation. OK...the champ went seven rounds but that was all he could do. The first trip to the bathroom was neither as spectacular or relieving as one might hope. I have four minutes before I go back and choke down the last glass. The glasses definitely got smaller after one and two and it will take eight miserable trips to get this filthy, filthy act done.

Yes, that just happened. I will report on this no more. We will never speak of it again. Understood?