Pucker Up! It's Colonscopy Time!

My post today combines the thoughts of Dave Barry, a syndicated humor columnist, and me, a single-white male living in Phoenix Arizona.  Enjoy! (and call me?)

OK. You turned 50. You know you're supposed to get a colonoscopy. Butt, you haven't. Here are your reasons:

1. You've been busy.

2. You don't have a history of cancer in your family.

3. You haven't noticed any problems.

4. You don't want a doctor to stick a tube 70 feet up your ass.

Let's examine these reasons one at a time. No, wait, let's not. Because you and I both know that the only real reason is No. 4. This is natural. The idea of having another human, even a medical human, becoming deeply involved in what is technically known as your rectum (pronounced "wrecked-him") gives you the sweats.

I'm 59 and I had my first colonoscopy two years ago.  Despite everything you hear, it was a simple and painless procedure.  Notice I did not say it was "non-invasive."  As much as I avoided it, I made the decision to not be stupid about it.  I knew it was something that could possibly save my life.  Best of all, it turned out that everything is working and looking the way it should. I know... already we're in the TMI zone. Well buckle your seatbelt... it's going to be a bumpy ride!

In 1997, when Dave Barry turned 50, everybody told him he should get a colonoscopy. He agreed that he definitely should, butt not right away. By following that policy, he reached age 55 without having had a colonoscopy. Then he did something so pathetic and embarrassing that I am frankly ashamed to tell you about it.
What happened was, a giant 40-foot replica of a human colon came to Miami Beach. Really. It was an educational exhibit called the Colossal Colon, and it was on a nationwide tour to promote awareness of colo-rectal cancer. The idea is, you crawl through the Colossal Colon, and you encounter various educational items in there, such as polyps, cancer and hemorrhoids the size of regulation volleyballs, and you go, ''Whoa, I better find out if I contain any of these things,'' and then you get a colonoscopy.

If you are my age and there is a giant colon within a 200-mile radius, you are legally obligated to go see it. So he went to Miami Beach and crawled through the Colossal Colon and then wrote a column full of tasteless colon jokes.  But he also urged everyone to get a colonoscopy. When I read a reprint of his column in 2008, I pledged to myself to get one; no, not a Colossal Colon, a colonsoscopy. And then I prayed I did not already have a colossal colon.
Butt, I didn't get one right away.  I was with Dave.  I found myself to be a fraud, a hypocrite, a liar. I could have run for Congress! Butt I did go for my screening the following year.

I went to the Arizona Colonoscopy campus.  No, they do not have a football team and thank goodness for that.  The mascot possibilities are endless. Anyway, I left the office with an appointment for my procedure with Dr. Singh, some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called ''MoviPrep,'' which comes in a box large enough to hold a spiral sliced ham.  I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that prisoners would beg for waterboarding if they had their choice between that and MoviPrep.

I spent the next several days sitting around being nervous and googling "colonoscopy." I figured if some doctor was going to google my behind in a few days, I needed to google something, too! On the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day.  All I had were liquids; broths, iced tea, etc.  Then, in the afternoon, I began taking the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-gallon plastic jug (that's why the box was so big... comes with its own jug),, then you fill it with water.  There are some "flavor" packets that come with the mix; cherry, orange, and lemon.  I opted for the orange.  Yummy! Then you have to drink the whole jug; one 12 oz. glass every half hour.  This happens over the course of about 5 hours. Did I mention you should not make plans for the remainder of the day?
The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, states that after you drink it, ''a loose watery bowel movement may result.'' That's like saying if you are stopped at a traffic light on the far west side of mid-town Manhattan, that you may experince someone asking if you need your windows washed.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic,here, butt have you ever seen a launch of the space shuttle?  Well, MoviPrep is the fuel and you are the shuttle.  You spend several hours pretty much confined to a 10 foot radius of the bathrrom.  I actually moved my Lazy Boy just outside the bathroom door, until I realized that the extra time it took to get out of the chair when I had to, was now oh so important.  So, I moved the Lazy Boy back to its origianl spot and put a plain straightback chair near the bathroom door.  I still had a straight view to the TV.  No problem...

MovePrep lives up to its rep.  You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally void of anything you shoved into your face for the last week, MoviPrep kicks into overrdrive.  As far as I can figure, your bowels enter some drug-related time machine and advance to the future where they start expelling foods you have not consumed yet.

Actually, I slept fine that evening.  The next morning a friend drove me to the Colonoscopy campus.  Not only was I worried about the procedure, butt I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep. I was thinking, ''What if I .... on Dr. Singh?"  How do you apologize to someone for something like that?  And you can't make believe it didn't happen.  They've made a fortune selling bumper stickers and t-shirts saying it does, and it's far more obvious than trying to blame the family dog for "breaking wind."

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the hell the forms said. Then they led me to a room where I took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital gowns, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.

Then a very lovely nurse named Valerie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand.

When everything was ready, Valerie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Dr. Singh was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 70-foot tube, butt I know Dr. Singh had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Dr. Singh had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and the TV was on. 
And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.  I do want to say that at one point during the procedure I looked up at the TV.  I don't know what show the Doctor and nurses were watching, but it looked like some guy with a very cute butt, was getting something shoved up it.  I thought, oh well, even some porn for the staff can't do anything butt boost morale.

Soo, what about the colonoscopy?  I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, Judge Judy was rendering her verdict on the TV and the next, some guy was getting reamed with a hose.  Where are the censors anyway?

. . . and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up feeling just fine.  Dr. Singh was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Dr. Singh told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. Although I love all my internal organs equally the same, I was never more proud of my colon.  I even got some lovely photos to take home and, I don't know... frame?
Butt my point is this: In addition to being medically pathetic, I was a complete moron. For more than a year I avoided getting a procedure that was, essentially, nothing. There was no pain and, except for the MoviPrep, slight to no discomfort. I was risking my life for being nothing more than macho.  And in unfortunate cases... macho kills.

One of the nicest men I have ever known, put off his colonoscopy even though he had symptoms that things were not right.  He died at age 50. If you had asked me a year before he died, "Who is the healthiest man you know?", I would have said his name in an instant.  You don't have to feel like you have cancer to have cancer.

If you are a man reading this, don't be stupid.  If you are a woman reading this, don't let your man be stupid.  And maybe it's not a bad idea to ask YOUR physician if a colonscopy is necessary for you.

OK, since you've all had the good sense to read this far, here are some things I hope will make you laugh.  These are some of the most memorable things said by patients during their colonoscopies. Here you go! #5 and #10 are my favorites.

1. 'Take it easy, Doc. You're boldly going where no man has gone before!'
2. 'Find Amelia Earhart yet?'
3. 'Can you hear me NOW?'
4. 'Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?'
5. 'You know, in Arkansas , we're now legally married.'
6.  'Any sign of the trapped miners, Chief?'
7. 'You put your left hand in, you take your left hand out...'
8. 'Hey! Now I know how a Muppet feels!'
9. 'If your hand doesn't fit, you must quit!'
10.. 'Hey Doc, let me know if you find my dignity.'
11.. 'You used to be an executive at Enron, didn't you?'
12.. 'God, now I know why I am not gay.'
And the best one of all:

13.. 'Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head is not up there?'

Whitey out!