gotta love Dave Barry…

hello friends!  sorry for the gross lack of blog posts.  i am still alive and kicking and floating on cloud nine. 

i am in the process of preparing an actual “brief update on my life” post, but until then – here is an email forward that was sent to me that had me cracking up laughing.  just had to pass it along. 

warning: the content is pretty much what the title says it will be.  just a heads up.

————-

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, and 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 FireHose
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 shrieking ‘Dancing
Queen!  Feel the beat from 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.
————-

real post coming in a couple days! 

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