It Was the Worst of Times, It Was the Worst of Times.

Uhhh, where to begin? This is one of those stories that's more humorous on the tail end of the experience than before. It's also one of those experiences that is most mortifying for the end user, so please bare with me as I recount my date with the gastroenterologist.

Editor's Note: I once had a boyfriend, then I posted about my colonoscopy on my public blog. It was nice to know Man while I had the chance. At first I figured that if Alysun can write details about giving birth then this topic is fair game, but then I remembered that the ring on her finger allowed her that freedom.

Why in the world did I have to go to a specialist at my age? That's a great question, but the answer is: I still don't know. My odd diet coupled with being on antibiotics almost all last year (I'm exaggerating, but you get the picture) means that I have been miserable since about June of this past year. My body is kinda mad at me. Anyone who has lived with chronic pain knows what I am talking about when I say: feeling constantly ill pretty much makes one pretty excited about heaven. I'll get a new pain free body? Sign me up! But-- I'm getting ahead of myself. The point of going to doctors and specialists is to live the best life possible now.

It's just too bad that the best life possible means a video camera up my tuchus.

My horror did not start until Monday night, when I went to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription for "MoviPrep." Secretly, I was hoping that the pharmacist would hand over two tickets to the theater as the best way to get ready for the procedure, but that was not the case. What a deceiving name. In any event, I did not have to do anything but wake up and drink a whole h$!! of a lot of this solution stuff. It tasted awful and I called the folks every half hour to have them tell me to keep going. We emailed back and forth too-- anything to distract the fact that I had to drink this crappy stuff (pun intended). That's when Dad alerted me to the fact that Two and a Half Men on Monday night was all about Charlie Sheen's character getting a colonoscopy. I watched it and that helped for about 20 minutes *drink, drink, drink.*

Two and a Half Men "Yay, No Polyps"

Then I remembered Dave Barry wrote a column about his experience and I read it, also laughing hysterically. He's a better writer than I and he gets into the gory details so that I don't have to.

My Colonoscopy by Dave Barry

The parents came to pick me up at 1:00 for our drive to San Ramon (I heart bay area doctors!-- and a couple of local ones too...), and to their surprise I even had make-up on. I told them that unlike other medical procedures, the medical staff asked me to wear makeup so that they could differentiate which end they were supposed to be working on. Like I expected, the folks groaned. The Man distracted me with jokes via text messages on the trip over. Thanks, Man!

Once at the Surgery Center, it was one of the pleasant medical experiences I've ever had (perhaps "pleasant" isn't the right word. Dad said that if I wake up and they are smoking a cigarette, to file a lawsuit immediately). They had the most professional people working there. When asked to don the infamous backless gown, they let me keep on my knee socks on for which I was eternally grateful. It's so cold in those places usually. I mean, I even got a heater in my little waiting room. The nurses were so kind and they had the system down to a science. They told me that the anesthesia would take effect in 20 seconds. That was the word of the day: anesthesia! The last thing I remember before falling asleep was saying to the nurses "Wow, it does take about 20 seconds, huh?" Little 'ole rational me.

Once I woke up, I got a juice box to drink (for being good, I imagine) and then they wheeled me out to the car where the folks were waiting. What service! The nurses advised me to not eat anything greasy or harsh after not eating for so long, but once in the car, Dad asked where to for dinner and I did not hesitate before exclaiming: "Chilis!"

The truth is, it's not that bad. I suspect the doctor had a worse day than I did-- he was awake through it all. Once at Chili's, I got a compassionate call from Mick to see if everything went ok, but then all the "sisterly" feelings evaporated when he asked, "Did the doctor call and ask for his watch back yet?"

It's a good thing that I got a clean bill of health, Mick. Now I can come beat you up.