The Eye @

Colonoscopy Journal

Posted in Uncategorized by eyebee on March 9, 2009

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
 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
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.
Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for the Miami Herald.

Posted via email from Eyebeemania


One Response

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  1. Purity12 Admin said, on April 23, 2009 at 15:48

    Very Interesting Story.

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