Archive for February, 2009

the unexpected

Chris and I were watching Jeopardy the other night as we are wont to do. Immediately afterwards we were assaulted by the advertisement that appeared before us.

Scene opens on a blonde woman wearing a button-down shirt and blue jack-igan (jacket + cardigan). She’s holding a cup of coffee and appears to be in an office. She speaks in a flinty monotone: “They call me the girl on the go. Frequent burning urination. There. I said it.”

Uh…. WHAT?!! Wasn’t expecting THAT. We looked at each other and burst out laughing.

No award-winning blog entry this, just thought I’d share a wee ha ha.

colonoscopy no. 2

Had my second colonoscopy last month (pretty sure I’ll be getting one annually for the foreseeable future) and it was a most delightful little romp.

Yes, I’m kidding, but not entirely.  If you’ve ever had one yourself or read my entry about my first colonoscopy, you know the worst part is the prep.  My test was scheduled for the Tuesday after MLK (Mon)Day - yes, the day after the snow sculptures and my morning spin w/JoJo!! -  so I couldn’t eat all day.   AT 7pm Monday night I had to drink a bottle and a half of magnesium citrate.  What followed was an endless series of trips to the bathroom.

The next bottle and a half of magnesium citrate is to be drunk 5 hours before your test.  Mine was scheduled for 7:30am, so after some napping (interrupted by so many potty breaks it’s hard to call what I did “sleep”) I got up at 2:30am to finish my dose.  More endless trips to the potty.  [Word to the wise, if you’re lying down, you’re in the midst of this prep,  and you feel like you have some gas to release, don’t fart.  It’s not just gas.]

My dear Chris wakes up and drove me to the hospital at 6:30 even though he’d only returned from his gig Monday night at 3am.  What a champ.

Mine was the first appointment of the day so the waiting room was empty.  Colonoscopies don’t take very long, so once I was settled in, Chris commandeered a small couch for himself.  Now I’ll skip to the funny parts.

Cut to exam room.  First of all, the nurse and I are riffing on some 70’s thing or other and she says “you’re too young to know that!”  Hello?  She’s in front of the computer screen displaying my vitals.  She can see exactly how old I am.  I remind her my age and she says she misread the screen and  “wow, you look so young!”  I should be used to this, but I still love being identified as 10 years younger than I am.   For some reason it hasn’t lost its charm.

What they administer for a colonoscopy is called waking anesthesia.   My nurse explained this to me more clearly this time; what the drug does is disrupt your short term memory.  Essentially they give you a rufi.    They gave Roofie a rufi.  As the drug starts kicking in I’m feeling very relaxed and happy.  The last thing I remember my nurse or doctor saying is something about how I did a good job with my prep.  Woo hoo!!

I regain consciousness  as the nurse is wheeling me into the recovery room.   She’s singing “I’m so glad we had this time together…”  I’m all, “Just to have a laugh or sing a song….. Wait.   Why are you singing that?!  Isn’t that Carol Burnett?”  The nurse tells me she’s singing it because I was singing it.  During the exam. (!!!)  Well I’ll be damned.  I have a faint glimmer of a memory of doing so and realize I, ever the comedienne, was making light of what was going on.  Which is to say I was joking about how the time flew by while they maneuvered a camera-equipped rod up my ass and it’d likely be another year till I saw them again.  Bright side indeed.

As I’m giggling about that and she lets me know I can’t leave till I fart.  A lot of air goes up the colon during the exam you need to release it.   A few minutes go by and I’m making some noise and resting comfortably.  They wheel another patient past me and into the recovery room next door.  I hear them explain again the need to pass gas and the fella asks about smell.  His nurse lets him know it won’t smell - if it did the nurses would have a very hard time working that corridor.  She walks down the hall and moments later I hear him let a loud one rip.  I start losing it as I start imagining the entire hallway lined w/unlit, curtain-separated cubbies all issuing forth the brass section.  Awesome.

When it’s time for me to leave, it’s only 9 or so in the morning.  I woozily get dressed and am led to the now-full waiting room to find Chris curled up on his little sofa fast asleep.  He comes to startled to find so many people have materialized all around him and is suddenly rather self-conscious.  He described himself as feeling like a hobo - the only thing missing being a blanket made of newspapers.  We make our way out of the hospital’s labyrinth to go home and go back to sleep.