Monday, April 18, 2016
fundament, n., = the buttocks, etc.
As I posted yesterday, I will have a colonoscopy* tomorrow (Tuesday). And time, as they say, is flying. (As it always does when something you dread is on the horizon.) Today is my day of fasting--nothing but clear liquids (except for coffee, which I am imbibing today like nectar--even more than usual).
I'm actually used to fasting now and then--and not just for explicit medical purposes. As some of you know, I've had a long, long, long battle with weight control (oh, you fatty Dyer genes!), and throughout the years I've sometimes fasted for a day when I've been "bad" (too much popcorn at the movies, too much frozen custard at Stoddard's). Fasting has an added benefit: the overwhelming feeling of virtue, a powerful motive! Right now, my weight is decent, especially since I've been on Lupron for more than 2.5 years, a drug that makes weight loss heinously hard. (My oncologist actually shook my hand last time I saw him! I felt like a student-of-the-week in sixth grade, an honor, by the way, I never won.)
So, I don't mind fasting.
What I know I will mind is the Hellfire Potion (HP) I must start consuming tonight at 6--nearly a gallon of it--the most powerful purgative on the planet. It's cherry flavored. (I eschewed lemon, picked cherry; we'll see how bright a move that was.) That HP will require me to make very frequent visits to that special little room next to our bedroom. I will drink 8-oz glasses every 15 minutes from 6-8 p.m. (when half the stuff will be gone), then suffer the consequences. I will then arise at 4:00 a.m. and drink the remaining half (same routine). I must be at the facility (16 mi, about 30 min, says Google Maps) at 8; the procedure is at 9--and takes about an hour, more or less, much of which I will be in La-La Land--at least I was last time, 11 years ago.
Those of us of a certain age are supposed to undergo this elevating ritual every decade; I sneaked in an extra year, mostly because I changed physicians, and no one was too sure for a while what exactly had been done to me. (And I wasn't about to tell anyone.) Eventually, my records caught up with me, and I'll "celebrate" tomorrow morning.
I really don't remember much about last time--have I suppressed it all? Here's all my journal says for March 21, 2005 (the first day of spring was the day before):
... filled out forms, stripped to gown (J waited with me in pre-op); got IV; I have no memory of the procedure: I was looking at the monitor; they started the Demerol; next thing I knew, I heard a voice say “All done”; wheeled me into recovery, and J was with me; left after a bit and drove home; I was feeling pretty well;
My doctor now assures me they have a great sedative; he'd better be right. I'm not at all above violence.
Oh, and be reassured: I'll be posting no selfies.
*It's no comfort that Blogspot's spellchecker does not recognize colonoscopy.