How To Kick-Start Your Diet
I did it!
The “Dreaded Colonoscopy”.
Only it wasn’t so dreaded. It was easy. Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezy. (literally ‘lemon squeezy’)
The hardest part was the prep. Which really wasn’t as bad as I’d read. My blogger friend Paula http://paulatohlinecalhoun1951.wordpress.com/ linked me to Dave Barry’s hilarious account a while back http://www.miamiherald.com/2009/02/11/v-fullstory/427603/dave-barry-a-journey-into-my-colon.html. While Dave needed a seatbelt on his toilet, I only needed to stay within fifteen feet of mine – and some chafing cream.
So that wasn’t too bad. What was awful was watching my husband eat all kinds of goodies. He made ham-and-pickle salad with the leftover Easter Ham. I adore ham-and-pickle salad. In fact, it is right up there with lobster. But no. I ate green jello with a Dulcolax chaser. He had roasted almonds dusted with sea salt. I had a beef bullion cube. He had the chocolate covered strawberries I gave him for Easter. I had lemony Drain-O.
I got up before dawn. That wasn’t too hard because I was up every eighteen minutes anyway.
The doctor’s orders said no make-up. That was really hard. But I have a nice tinted moisturizer. Surely that would be okay. And my new blush is really sheer. But what if they couldn’t tell I was cyanotic because my blush looked so fresh and healthy? I took it off. (I left on my new concealer though – they don’t need my dark undereye circles to check my oxygen levels…)
And no contact lenses! No one has seen me in glasses since I had my gallbladder out. So here’s another medical establishment I can never frequent again.
We went to the Endoscopy Center as the sun was just coming up. Good thing Dunkin Donuts is open at that hour. Hubbie needed a glazed donut. I needed the ladies’ room.
The nurse at the Center was very nice. She explained all about the procedure. She gave me a hospital gown in size XXXXXL. It fit pretty good.
She told me that when I woke up, I would be in the recovery room with other patients who had the same procedure. “You all have to let all the air out,” she said, delicately describing the Farting Room. “It will be very musical. Just join the band.”
They gave me Propofol to knock me out. Let me tell you: I understand why Michael Jackson loved this stuff. I was out for twenty minutes, and woke up as refreshed as if I had slept eight hours. And euphoric.
And my colon is perfect. “Absolutely perfect,” said the doctor. She gave me pictures. And you know what? My colon IS perfect. Just like my Grandma used to tell me when I was an eight-year-old ugly duckling – “I am pretty on the inside”. I won’t share those photos with you, but let me say that my colon is like a chain of rosebuds, delicately unfurling.
I felt so good, I went out to breakfast without make-up or contacts. And I even laughed when I farted as the waitress brought me my scrambled eggs and bacon. That Propofol is pretty damn good.
And I lost two pounds.