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Friday, August 28, 2009


Here's a clue. It's not space.

Oh, the joys of medical screening. Medicine is all about prevention, and that is a good thing. We really are living longer because of it and that is a very good thing. So, I was a little puffed up recently from being responsible and going through all those poke and prod tests, as I do every year, and passing with flying colors. Then my Doc said it was time for a colonoscopy and he handed me a prep list for the day before the procedure. Right after I said, "you're going to
put what...where?!".

This is one of those ideas that sound a lot better in principle than in practice.

I decided to stop at the pharmacy for the prep supplies before heading home, just to get used to the idea.

It didn't work.

I felt like Alice, getting smaller and smaller until I could barely see the top of the counter. Can a person actually get all that inside?

Two 32 ounce bottles of Gatorade is one whole GALLON! A G.A.L.L.O.N. I don't like Gatorade, let alone with a bottle of thick, slick goo in it. And, it has to go down in two hours! That is 8 ounces every 15 minutes. Not exactly sippin' speed.
But before we start in on all that liquid, there is the Ducolax to get down.

Five of them. At one time.

Now, that is exactly what I would do to a terrorist.
It was shaping up to be one explosive evening; I could become airborne. And so it began. Take the pills and wait two hours. Just to pass the time, I began to mix the Gatorade and white powder. But, WAIT! The Gatorade is red and I can't drink anything red! I have to drive to the corner pharmacy. Oh, no,....no, no...... not a good idea. I just downed 5 Ducolax. Ho. Leee. Shit. But, I do it. Ran in, grabbed the Gatorade, slapped cash down on the counter, looked impatient, a little crazed....told the woman to take the money...take the money.....TAKE THE MONEY!!!!!!!!

So now its time for the Gatorade. And more Gatorade.......eeeewwwww. And then, nothing. I'm getting nothing. Walking, walking, bending, walking...nothing. Really, can this stuff turn to cement? Nothing. I'm getting worried, wondering if I should call the.....WHOA....SOMETHING!!!! I have to say, sneezing fits in the most inappropriate of places is unsettling and remained that way for some time.
For quite a long, long, time.

I arrived at the Doctor's office early and was processed in record time. All the nurses were smiling and asking questions and being ever so sweet. Of course, they can afford to be; they have the power. Somewhere, behind the brightly painted walls, a thing was lurking. THAT thing was waiting. That big LONG thing. I turned over on my side and waited, then saw..........my friend? She was asking if I needed help getting dressed. Huh? I remember nothing, but among the things I do not remember are conversations I was reported to have had.

Maybe, and maybe Susan's just messing with me. She does that.


OK, I've had some fun with this, but here's the bottom line (excuse the pun). There are no guarantees out there. If you can improve your odds significantly, why wouldn't you?

(What happened above was a head game that I did to myself. The Gatorade wasn't bad, the MiraLax is not slimy, and the Ducolax was not a problem. Things take a while to pass though, so start early. The Doc was fabulous, I don't remember a thing. And nothing hurt. Honestly.)

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