*I posted this on my Empower Network blog on July 19th – but just had to share this funny story with you as well! Enjoy!
Colonoscopy
Definition: visual examination of the colon (with a colonoscope) from the cecum to the rectum; requires sedation. {Thank God for sedation!}
If you’ve turned 50 – you do know you are supposed to get a colonoscopy (to check for cancer, etc) – right? Why haven’t you? Hmm . . . let me guess . . .
1. You haven’t had any intestinal problems
2. You are too busy! (likely excuse!)
3. You don’t have a history of cancer in your family.
4. You don’t want a doctor to stick a tube 17,000 feet up an “exit-only” hole in your body!
Hey – I don’t blame you! I think #4 is probably everyone’s #1 excuse. It would be mine (if I wasn’t having other issues that drove me to this)!
Ok – so I’m not 50 – but I did just have to go through this unmentionable test today.
To cheer me up from having to undergo this torture (actually – the torture was the prep! I only got 5 minutes sleep – and then just gave up! But hey – I signed up a new Empower Network member and made $100 – all while pooping my brains out all night. What other job can you say you made money while on the pot?!), my dad sent me this hilarious (and oh-so-true) Dave Barry story!
Dave Barry’s take on colonoscopy
This is from newshound Dave Barry’s colonoscopy journal:
…. I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenteritis, 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.
ABOUT THE WRITER Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for the Miami Herald. This Dave Barry column was originally published Feb. 22, 2008.I survived . . . and benefited!
Yes – I’m alive and well and my doc said I had a “long and torturous colon” – whatever that is? 🙂 Hey – anyone need some extra colon?
I did benefit from this experience.
#1. I have a very clean intestinal tract now {can we say “cleanse”?!}
#2. I lost 4 pounds in the process (that will hopefully stay away if it knows what’s best!)
#3. I have a valid excuse to “let em rip” today (the nurses told me to!).
#4. I actually had fun reliving my night shift days – staying up all night talking with friends (who should have been in bed too!), ministering to someone online, checking emails, and even making $100 from a new signup with Empower Network!
#5. Because I was up later than normal – I was able to save us a couple hundred $$ worth of food spoilage due to . . . well . . . let’s just say I had a mad teenager (due to getting grounded). ‘Nuf said.
#6. I got to sleep all day today! (that might backfire on me tonight when I want to sleep) – and I even got 2 more signups while sleeping! (Again – isn’t this just the BEST job?!)
Go get your colonoscopy done!
Well – if you are over 50, I hope I didn’t scare you off from having this done. As a nurse – I do highly recommend taking care of yourself . . . ALL of you – even if it’s uncomfortable and not your favorite thing to do. YOU are worth it and deserve GREAT health!
{note to self: now brave the cold hard world of mammography! Oh the joys of getting old!}
In all you do & who you are,
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