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, 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 is,
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' 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 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.
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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?'
12. 'God, now I know why I am not gay.'
And the best one of all.
13. 'Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head
is not up there?'