Colonoscopy 2

Ok, so it is over. I just have really bad hemorrhoids. I do not remember a point in my childhood where I thought the statement "I just have really bad hemorrhoids" would be a good thing.

So it starts with me having to stop eating solid foods by 1PM the day before. Just clear fluids after that. When I got home that evening I took two ducolax and then another two right before bed. Well at 2:30 AM I woke up. I could feel something going on inside me. Something not good. Sort of like what John Hurt would have felt if Alien had shot out his ass instead of his chest. Just making it into the bathroom in time for a bowel movement so impressive I considered taking pictures of it. It just would not stop coming out. Remember that scene in Austin Powers when he was pissing after coming out of suspended animation. Picture that with poop and lots of graphic-bordering-on-Monty-Python-like sound effects.

I think I discovered Number 3.

Well after a good 45 minutes of pooping back to bed. 7AM up to take phosfo soda - three doses a half hour apart. If you ever wondered how these things clear out your bowels, well it is simple actually. The active ingredients in them cause your bowels to retain water. So basically you end up pissing out of your ass.

A lot.

Often.

And I mean a lot very often.

So after 3 hours of pissing out of my ass time to leave for the hospital. I went to Benedictine Hospital in Kingston. Really nice place. I was pre-registered. Walked in. Showed them my card then someone escorted me and my family up to the endoscopy area. Very civilized.

Gave my wife and son a hug and sent them on my way. Could not help but think about the ramifications of what the worst case senaireo would be. Met a woman on the bus the other day. She has started commuting everyday into NYC. Her husband died a few years ago and she just lost her job. The only job she could find that paid enough was in NYC. So she drops her two children off with family at 5:30AM every day. Her youngest, who does not remember her dad, just started school.

But I digress.

Well they give me a bag and tell me to put on a robe. I sat in my robe and read some of The Road To Mars by Eric Idle. After a very long wait a nurse comes to get me. Turns out they forgot I was back there. Great.

So she takes me into a room and I hop up in bed. While one nurse sticks me with the IV, monitor patches, pressure cuff and the such the other is asking me all sorts of medical questions. Since most of the time I had not idea what she was talking about I just said "no".

Now I am laying there on a bed, in a robe with no drawers on. With my feet towards the door if you know what I mean. I've got IV's, cuffs, oxygen, electrodes my chest, some thing on my finger, and more. I was wondering is this what my last days are going to be like (hopefully) 40-50 years from now. Kind of scared and feeling rather alone and remembering my grandfather in the hospital. Not the way a person should go. Not like that. Not alone.

But I digress again.

The doctors with the good medicine shows up. The guy that knocks you out. Can not remember how to spell it and the spell check aint helping. He starts making jokes about whether I am a good tipper or not. Nothing like being strapped to a table with some stranger standing over you with a BIG MOFO NEEDLE making jokes. Well he sticks the thing in the IV and I was out. Boom I was out.

vaguely remember my doctor shaking me. Vaguely.

I ended up sleeping for almost an extra hour. They could not wake me up. They would give me a shake. Talk to me. The minute they stopped talking I would go right back out.

Big freaking surprise considering that I get like 5 hours sleep a night.

Finally get me up and tell me I am ok. I started laughing really hard. Not at anything in particular.

Just laughing.

It was good.

Then I think I confessed to all sort of things I did when I was younger involving drugs, but I figure the statute of limitations has run out on those.