This is probably by far the funniest story I have every heard/told regarding colonoscopy. Forwarded by my boss:

This is from newshound Dave Barry’s colonoscopy journal:

I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make anappointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andyshowed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears togo 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’treally 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 prescriptionfor a product called ‘MoviPrep,’ which comes in a box large enough tohold a microwave oven.I will discussMoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must neverallow it to fall into the hands of America’s enemies. I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous.Then, on the daybefore my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with myinstructions, I didn’t eat any solid food that day; all I had waschicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor. Then, inthe evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder togetherin a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (Forthose 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 beingkind – like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hintof lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a greatsense of humor, state that after you drink it, ‘a loose watery bowelmovement may result.’ This is kind of like saying that after you jumpoff 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 seena space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience,with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had aseat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom,spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figureyou 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 futureand start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morningmy wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was Iworried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasionalreturn bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, ‘What if I spurt onAndy?’ 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 understoodand totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they ledme to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside alittle curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of thosehospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when youput it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actuallynaked.

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 wasalready lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka intheir 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 tomake it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire HoseMode. 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 notsee the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around theresomewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll overon my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up tothe needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and Irealized that the song was ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA. I remarked to Andythat, of all the songs that could be playing during this particularprocedure, ‘Dancing Queen’ has to be the least appropriate.

‘You want me to turn it up?’ said Andy, from somewhere behind me. ‘Haha,’ I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading formore than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I amgoing 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, Iwas back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy waslooking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felteven more excellent when Andy told me that It was all over, and that mycolon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of aninternal organ. ABOUT THE WRITERDave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for the MiamiHerald.


About ambertaniuchi

I'm a 30 something Japanese female living in Salt Lake City, Utah. I grew up in Japan but also consider Hawaii my home. I am a QA Engineer by day but rock 'n' roll in a band called Lady Murasaki by night. I love all things vintage, gourmet and scotch, scotch, scotch. See these links for our music and FB.
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