Well this is an interesting day. My scrambled eggs were ordered from a local restaurant because my eggs expired sometime back in 2013. Well, it’s not that bad. But what’s the difference after a certain point? Eggs and other expired food can kill you or at least make you very sick if you flirt with spoiled food.
That applies as well to the fake crab meat pulled from the downstairs refrigerator. It’s been in there a couple years. Seriously. Maybe more. Along with a lot of other food that needs to visit the dumpster. So it’s all going the way of the Veolia truck.
There is still plenty of food left around the house that is not spoiled. But I cannot eat that food because today I’m only allowed clear liquids in preparation for a massive purge this afternoon. That’s right, I’m drinking the prep junk for a colonoscopy. And getting ready for liftoff.
I don’t know how bad it will be, but I’ll be wearing my bike helmet just in case there is enough propulsion power to fly me off the toilet seat and strike the ceiling with my head. One can never be too safe you know.
The cycling gloves might be good to wear as well. Never know how you might strike the ground when coming down from an ass-propelled flight.
Then he or she will give you a list of things to buy that sound pretty scary.
1 Miralax Bottle (the word “lax” is always a warning of something shitty to come)
1 Bottle of Magnesium Citrate. (Okay, isn’t magnesium what they use to fuel rocket ships?)
64 oz. Bottle (or two 32 oz.) of Gatorade or Propel. (I chose the Gatorade. More propulsion seemed like a bad idea in this procedure).
So now I spend the day working until sometime late afternoon. Then I drink half the dosage and wait. Probably not long.
It will be interesting to see how much weight I lose. But my scale is not working right now, so it will have to be based on perception.
Perhaps a good use of this whole ordeal would be to go out and attach my ass to the drain in my yard that does not seem to be working well. Thanks to constant rain the last five hours there are small lakes out back. Part of the problem is the design of the pipe system I concocted to move water away from the house. When there is water already filling the French drain I built to take runoff down into the ground, there’s not much call for water pressure to do its work. There’s already an equilibrium.
Which makes one realize that this whole flushing the colon thing kind of works both ways. Some people actually hire other people to give their lower intestinal track a major washing out. Colon cleansing they call it. That’s like getting your ear wax removed with one of those head hoses. Only shittier.
I can see the value in that. Some people will do anything to lose weight of course. Flushing all the crap out of your body is one way to do that. I suppose.
So whether you flush it out from above (like I’m going to do) or from below (which basically turns you into a sea anemone) the results are the same.
Between the deluge of rain today and the deluge of something else to come, I don’t know that I’ll do a workout today or tomorrow. Perhaps it would be wisest to go swim at XSport instead of trying to run or ride. Perhaps I can fool the body into thinking the colonoscopy is just an extension of the workout with all that water and chlorine. They do use chlorine up there, don’t they?
Chemicals are everywhere and you must be careful how you use them. Avoiding ibuprofen the last 7 days has also been part of the prep. The nurse who talked to me about my pre-procedure routine laughed when I told her that taking Tylenol does not do a thing for for me when it comes to aches and pains or headaches. “You’re not alone,” she laughed. “It doesn’t work for anyone.”
That raises a whole other question about that murder thing back in the early 80s when right here in the Chicago area some jerk named James William Lewis poisoned bottles of Tylenol using potassium cyanide. That caused a revolution in the entire packaging industry. Now to open the simplest of medicines you either need a degree in engineering or a career as a safecracker.
And speaking of safecrackers, my gastroenterologist (get the joke? ENTER ologist?) told me that I’ll be knocked out for the procedure and won’t feel a thing. That means, if the medical team felt like doing so, they could shove that tube all the way up my guts and out my mouth, waggle it around like a tongue and say “Look, he’s a chameleon!”
That is probably one of the main reasons why I am not a doctor. Physicians are not allowed to do such things or they lose their licenses.
Interestingly however, they are allowed to prescribe Ass Explosion Medicine like Miralax and, with a straight face, tell you that it’s not too bad if you mix it with Gatorade. That’s like feeding firecrackers to frogs, if you ask me. And I outgrew that in 8th grade.
But you’ll find, if you press them hard enough, that many physicians have very silly, immature senses of humor. That’s why you sometimes hear about orthopedic surgeons taking off the wrong arm or putting it on backwards just to see if it will work. Those silly doctors get bored dealing with dopey patients all day and all night. What’s the harm in a few prankish procedures now and then? People are adaptable. They’ll get along. If Lorena Bobbitt can saw off her husband’s penis and still the guy goes on to make a porn movie, we’re all just medical experiments in the end. No pun intended.
So it’s now twenty-after-eleven in the morning and I’m realizing that I won’t be eating anything solid for the next 24 hours. That’s okay. I’ve eaten enough in my lifetime to hold me over a day or two along with clear liquids to keep things greased and oiled. When I told my brother that I’d never had a colonoscopy he barked at me. “Get checked. What, you never ate a Slim Jim in your life?”
Actually I have eaten a few in my time, along with Twinkies and other stuff that never decomposes thanks to all the preservatives, and probably sticks to the sides of your intestines like wallpaper hung in the 1950s. You could set off a hydrogen bomb in some small towns and the last thing standing in most of the houses would be the wallpaper. That old stuff is tougher than kevlar. And sometimes just as ugly.
But now I hear my sump pump running constantly. It reminds me of the internal deluge to come. rrrrmppp rrrrmppp rrrrmmmp. Amazing how may ways life imitates art imitating life, and so on. Sump pump? Endoscope? Miralax. It’s all part of the circle of life, don’t you think?
I do recognize the importance of doing these things to diagnose your health. None of us wants cancer to sneak up on us from below. That part of this whole gig is not funny at all. So whatever it takes to know the real deal, I’m all for it. Kidding aside, get checked.
At any rate, I’ll probably post one more time tomorrow morning to keep my mind occupied while my ass is busy making other plans. I always try to keep up with my blogging. You can’t be lax about these things after all.