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 ina 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 forsomething
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.
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?
This is from newshound Dave Barry's colonoscopy journal:
ABOUT THE WRITER Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for the Miami Herald.
