Colonoscopy: T-minus 4
I’m getting a colonoscopy on Tuesday. But I start the pre-colonoscopy work today.
No more peanuts, carrots, breaded chicken, Coq au vin, hamburgers, Cherry Garcia ice cream, dried apricots, oatmeal, walnuts, Cape Cod potato chips, chocolate chips, wine, beer, scotch, or a roster of rich, tasty, decadent foods for the next few days.
Over the next 72 hours — Friday, Saturday, Sunday — it’s an extreme diet of bland. Rice. Cream of Rice. Rice Pudding. White Bread. Creamy Peanut Butter. Applesauce. Did I mention bland, boring, blech.
The goal is to make Monday — Day of the Toilet — as easy as possible, given the circumstances.
Let’s talk about Monday. The morning will consist of a few pills, then a 4–8 hour marathon of drinking 64 ounces of a vile powder, mixed with apple juice and/or white grape juice. The afternoon and evening will be spent running back and forth from couch to bathroom. I wonder if my Fitbit will count this as a workout.
I, for better or worse, have experience with this procedure, so I am prepared. My Monday, clear diet supplies are all set: Italian ices, orange pops, green and orange Jell-O, chicken broth, lemon sucking candies, and orange Gatorade will step up as supporting players during this medical malaise.
Accompanying me during this all day affair: the book “The Last Ship,” by William Brinkley. (I’m sure there is a joke to be made, at some point, about The Last Shit.)
The colonoscopy is the easy part — they put you under and before you know it, you are eating peanut butter crackers and getting dressed to go home. Despite the annoyance and discomfort of the prep, I am cognizant of the fact that I am lucky to be in a part of the world where I, and others, have access (and means) to a colonoscopy.
Have a family history of cancer? Over 40? Ask your doctor if you should get a colonoscopy. This is one can that you don’t want to kick down the road. Colonoscopies can save lives via early colorectal cancer detection. There ends my public safety announcement.
So, no complaining. Pass the chicken broth and prepare the wipes. And in the words of Tormund, “Happy shitting.”
