I turn 40 in a few months. In all honesty, and I believe that I can say this sincerely, it doesn’t bother me in the least! I know that 30 didn’t bother me, and other than a cute little surprise party planned by St. D with all of our family, I looked at that milestone as merely another warm June day. I mean sure, I was surrounded by black balloons, vulture and casket cut outs, and "Over the Hill" confetti, but my main concern that day was making sure that I got the last piece of Marion’s pizza and that my little Abbey, age 1 1/2, didn’t get her hand stuck in the "Claw Game" door (again)...
It has become an oh-so surreal reality that I should be taking better care of myself... no... really! (hold while I grab the last chunk of Otis Spunkmeyer Blueberry Mammoth Muffin that just fell on my lap... hold... ok... GOT IT!) I have seen all too clearly that, regardless of how many times we go and get "checked out", that life can throw us curveballs- those crippling kind that break someone’s huge bay picture window, leaving us holding shattered pieces of glass and nothing more than shere memories of the past, and vague wonderment of "what could have been"’s. As a woman, it doesn’t stop with the annual "Lube & Grope" appointments with our OB/GYN’s- as important as they are, the buck doesn’t stop with that office copay.
I realized that despite having a normal BP reading... I needed to start looking into having my cholesterol and thyroid checked, and having a baseline colonoscopy. Despite what most of you jackasses might be thinking.. the idea of having a 72 foot tube snaked up my bunghole does NOT thrill me in the least, but I understand it’s importance and, since I have a family history of colo-rectal cancer, I figured it a tick important to at least have some kind of initial screening.
My family doctor agreed and put in a "good word" to Dayton’s Digestive Specialists. I got a phone call shortly after to come in and go through an initial consult, and they would book me an appointment from there. I was surprised at how quickly they were able to get me scheduled, and was told that this past Wed. would be a perfect time to get cornholed by machinery. I was given the "prep" kit (well ok, not given, shelled out $10 for some saline solution, Dulculax tablets (for which I have at home), and a nifty Digestive Specialist tote bag), and told to follow the directions PRECISELY as written in order to ensure a CLEAN, HEALTHY CLEANSING....
Now I understood what I was in for- I mean, St. D had his ass Stanley Steamer’d in May of 06. I remember his "cleansing" day because, as I sat here at work working on a burger and fries for lunch, he would call me every 15 minutes to announce that he was "going"... AGAIN...
St. D: "OMG honey... it’s horrible... OHHH THE HUMANITY....you there honey???"
Me: "Yea honey, sorry, just finishing up the last of my Big Mac... boy, hehehehehe, I shouldn’t have Super Sized... ya know...?"
St. D: "OMG honey... it’s horrible!!!.... I can’t eat, and I’m starving, and there are things coming out of me that just aren’t normal!!!"
Me: (sound of slurping through a straw)... "Yea, ok honey... finishing up my McFlurry.. I will see you when I get home... k?"
I knew what was in store. I even stratgically looked at the "Things You Can "eat" During Cleansing Day" menu, and decided to be creative and make it a fun adventure. I purchased my Sugar Free Jello (no red or purples), my orange popcycles, my FAVORITE Propel Fitness Water flavors... and I was SET TO GO!
Tuesday morning didn’t start too bad. After having taken the Dulculax tablets Monday night, I awoke to the releasing of the hounds before I even had to take the girls to school. "Well damn!!!! It’s not even noon! This will be a snap!Besides, I’m not a breakfast eater anyways, and I have been known to be able to skip lunch on some occasions..."
Come 9:38am, I felt as if I had been wondering the Sahara Desert for 17 days. "WHAT THE SHIT?" If I were at work, I wouldn’t have given food a second thought! I decided sitting down to television, wrapped in a snuggly blanket, would take my mind off of being hungry. Nineteen KFC and 38 cereal commercials later, I contemplated eating my gym shoe... or the dog...."Jesus I can’t do this... I can’t watch commercials anymore!!!!!" I dubbed any advertising firm in the free world the anti-Christ, and chose to zoom in on commercial-free reruns of the Sopranos on I-Control. "Very cool, no commercials, just a lot of F-bombs and "busting caps"...
The first scene of the first episode viewed pictured Tony and his crew sitting down to a huge spaghetti and meatball dinner, complete with Italian bread and a huge green salad. After cursing God, Allah, James Gandolfini, Carmella for all of her excellent Italian cooking, and David Chase, it was decided it might be a good idea to eat some of that yummy lime jello that I made the night before.. just to take the edge off- Funny how it’s difficult to enjoy yummy lime jello when it’s still sitting in your cabinet, dry and powdered, because your sorry ass forgot to make it up the night before. I decided it best to simply pour the powdered mixture into my mouth, and swoosh it around a tick... "gelatin" is SOOOOO overrated....
I began yelling at the dog for having to urinate. I contemplated smashing my toes into the baseboards to take the hunger away, and replace it with skin-crawling pain. It was now 9:52am...
Several hours, one LONG nap, and about 715,914 curse words later, it was time to take the "stuff"- the saline shit that you mix with a clear beverage of your choice... I mixed 1.5 oz of this in about 17 gallons of lemon flavored Propel water... and it still tasted like I was supping on a fucking salt lick. I asked St. D when he thought it might "kick in"... he answered "about an hour after you take it"... Fifty-nine minutes and 47 seconds later... I lost things from my digestive system that I hadn’t eaten since Kindergarten. A Twinkie that I ate in 1978 emerged from my loins, as did Amelia Earhart’s shoe, one of Van Goh’s last paintings, and my dignity... St. D jokingly asked me if I was "taking the Brown’s to the Super Bowl".... my precious husband and eldest child had earlier attended a meeting for our "Relay for Life" walk team at my friend’s home, and decided that all of her home cooking shouldn’t go to waste...they brought in homemade Sloppy Joes, green bean casserole, cheesty potatos, and choclate iced pound cake. They lovingly left the styrophone plate with about 5 pieces of cake on it wrapped in see-through plastic wrap on the counter, for me to pass as I crawled into the kitchen from time to time, on my hands and knees... It was at that time I wished myself dead....
By the time Wed. morning rolled around, I believe I was too dehydrated and delerious to even care anymore. I had lengthy conversations with myself about politics, Barbie Dolls, and whether or not Melissa Gilbert has had a nose job. I longed for raw red cabbage, cherry koolaid, or even cherry rolaids. I forced myself to take the LAST of the saline enima... and drank the salty confection as if I was eating a Wendy’s frostie. I chose to pass some time before my appt. by actually bathing- if only to soak my now raw ass. St. D made it home, and we were off to the doc’s....
I wish the actual procedure was nearly as prose-worthy as the "getting ready", but it really isn’t. Only word of advice- whatever you do DO NOT make eye contact with the "camera". They brought in a 103 foot black hose that looked like it had been a stunt double in the movie Anaconda... I asked the nurse if "that" was "it"... she laughed and said "YEP... that’s him". I felt unnerved until a beautiful stream of narcotic entered into my pierced vein. I don’t remember a thing, except waking up in a cozy little recovery room, surrounded by the sounds of old folks next to me farting, oh wait.. that’s me...
One small polyp removal later (I’ve named him "Spot")... I’m happy to say I’m "fine". The doctor stated that everything looked fine, and saw "no cancer". I’ve resumed eating, and I’m sure, in about another week, I will start having "potties" again...I can fart and no one thinks much else of it because I’m simply releasing the 14 pounds of air that was shot up my asshole during the procedure.
I also know, regardless of the outcome of "Spot", that I did the right thing. I made a promise to my grandfather 5 years ago as he lay in a nursing home bed, dying of colo-rectal cancer that I would get checked routinely. I will do it again three years from now, and probably off and on the rest of my life. I didn’t just make him a promise, but myself as well. I can now check a colonoscopy off of my "to do" list this year... and next is a simple blood test to check my cholesterol and thyroid.
Life is beautiful- curveballs be damned!
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