Friday, February 8, 2013

Game Day

The day has arrived.  Preparations for my pending anal violation (AV) are nearing the end.  I still had a half gallon of noxious "prompt a poop" juice in the fridge waiting to be chugged, glass by gag inducing glass.

I spent most of the night worrying about when to start drinking my next batch of "prompt a poop" juice.  So much so that I barely slept.  Every hour I'd wake up...too early...go back to sleep...wake up...still too early...and on, and on...  Most of the night I spent watching the Food Channel and thinking about food.  It's not that I was really hungry, I just wanted to eat.

The directions from the BD's (Butt Doctor) office said to drink the second half four hours prior to check in time.  Now I'm worried that it won't work in time.  I'm supposed to check in at 11:00...but the AV outpatient center is about a forty-five minute drive from my house.  What if the "prompt a poop"' juice doesn't kick in soon enough?  What if I'm still pooping when it's time to leave for the AV center?  Do I call & tell them I'm going to be late?  What if they tell me they'll have to reschedule?  Then I'd have to do the pre-game show all over again.  No fucking way am I going to do that...What if I think I'm done pooping and have to poop in the middle of the drive?  There's NOWHERE to stop along the way.  Just a freeway with flatland pastures on either side.  I'm worried I'm going to end up shitting my pants at some point.  Maybe I should have bought some adult Depends...just in case...but that makes it seem like you're planning to intentionally shit your pants...and that just seems so wrong.

These are all thoughts that are running through my pea brain when I get the "prompt a poop" juice out of the fridge.  I poured the first glass and started to chug away...and was immediately rewarded not only with the urge to vomit but with intense brain freeze because the "prompt a poop" juice was too cold to chug.  You know the freeze pain you get between your eyes when you eat ice cream or drink something too cold...yep, that's what happened.

Now I don't know what to do, because there's no way you can sip this stuff without puking it right back up.  There's no time to let it sit and warm up.  I don't have time.  I need to get this stuff down the gullet and out the other end BEFORE I have to drive to the AV center.    I wonder if I should put it in the microwave but nix that idea because I'm afraid I'd get it too hot and then have to put it in the freezer to cool off at which point I'd leave it too long and be back to the whole brain freeze problem again.  I fill the sink with hot water and set the jug in it.  It worked.

Let the process begin...again.

When I signed up for this, it didn't occur to me that there would be a "preferable" time to be anally violated.  As it turns out, I was wrong.  Early morning is where it's at for AV procedures.  Why?  I'll tell you why.  Because if you stoopidly schedule your AV procedure for 11:00 in the morning, you have to continue the pre-game show on Game Day.  If you schedule the big event for 8:00 in the morning, you only have one day to experience the pre-game show festivities.  When you know you have to get up on Game Day and drink more of the gag inducing beverage it just makes for a long sleepless night.  Trust me on this future AV participants and plan accordingly.

The Husband, bless his heart, took time off work to make sure I actually followed through with the Game Day activities, but the night before the pre-game show, he dropped a little bomb which I'm sure contributed to my Nervous Nellie worries about pooping my pants.

"I made an appointment to get the bed liner sprayed on the pickup" he tells me while we're watching TV.

"Oh, good, when" I say, thinking it's going to be on my regular day off work.

"We drop it off Tuesday morning before your thing" he nonchalantly says.

"What?" I realize I'm screeching..."I can't go driving around before that.  What if I'm still pooping and can't leave in time?"  I know I'm starting to sound panicky.

"You'll be all done by then"  he calmly says, like it's no big deal.  See, when he did the AV procedure, he had it in the early morning, so his pre-game show was over with the night before.

"I have to drink the second half that morning.  What if I'm not done in time?"  my panic increases.

"You do?" He says, like it's the first time he's heard it.  "Well you should still be done."  Never does it occur to him that it may be a little inconvenient for me on this particular day.  The Husband just sees a way to kill two birds with one big him anyway.  The Husband always manages to come up with some convoluted plan when cars need to be shuffled around for various repairs...and he always makes it harder than it needs to be.

"Maybe you should have your brother meet you at the truck place and drive you over to the AV center" I suggest.  Then I think about it.  It probably won't be a big deal...fifteen extra minutes.  I'm trying to be rational when all I really want to do is scream "how could you be so stoopid?".  But...he means I keep my mouth shut. "Well,"  I say "we'll just see how it goes".

I finish the pre-game show morning cleanse beverage without puking my guts up...barely...and figure I need to leave the house by 9:30 at the latest.  It's a little after 6:00 and I'm waiting to start another round of bathroom visits...and waiting...and waiting...until finally the cleansing begins...and continues...and continues...

By 9:30 I'm panicking.  Now I just know I'm never going to make it to the AV center without having to stop and cleanse, aka/poop,  a little more.  It probably doesn't even have anything to do with the cleansing ritual anymore.  I've probably just made myself so nervous that now I have the nervous shits.  You know how when you're in a stressful situation and your nerves are shot?  Suddenly you get that pre-diarrhea feeling in the pit of your stomach giving you warning that soon you'll be shitting your brains out?  You know that feeling?  Everybody knows that feeling, don't they?  I mean, I can't be the only one, can I?

I finally leave the house at 10:00 hoping I've reached the end of the pre-game show ritual.  When I get in cell phone reception area, I call The Husband to tell him I'm running late but I'm on my way and the call goes directly to voice mail.  He calls me back.

"Yeah, I called my brother and he's gonna meet me at the truck place and drive me over to where you are so I'll just meet you there" he doing this was his idea and not something I suggested two days ago...when I could've been spared the nervous shits...God love him...

"Okay"  I play along.

When I get to the AV center, The Husband is walking up through the parking lot.  I have him go park the car and I enter the tiny lobby of the torture chamber.  It's full.  There's only seven chairs and only is empty so I snag it.  Everyone looks at you when you walk in because everyone knows why you're there...because everyone is there for the same be anally violated.  We're all a bunch of oldsters here for the opportunity of a lifetime...having a camera shoved up our asses.

Everyone was told they had to bring someone to drive them after the "procedure".  Next to me, there's a mousy little dark haired woman whose ride must have already left.  Next to her, there's a guy who looks like a retired professor with his wife, and next to them, there's a tough looking blond with her friend who looks like she stepped right out of 1963 complete with an Ann Landers hairdo. Remember Ann Landers?  The advice queen?  She and her sister, Dear Abby, dished out advice nationwide in syndicated newspaper columns.  But I digress...

Everyone's joking about their pre-game show activities.  The professor informs us that this is his second attempt after failing to complete his previous pre-game show activities.  "I couldn't finish drinking that stuff the first time" he says.  He's looking at me, but I don't know how to respond...or if I should?  What do you say to something like that anyway?  Fortunately, everyone laughs and I'm spared the effort of trying to think of an appropriate response, when in walks The Husband.  I'm ridiculously happy to see him but there's nowhere for him to sit.  "You don't have to stay" I tell him "they'll call you when I'm done".

"Oh no" he says for all to hear "I'm gonna make sure you don't try to make a run for it".  Everyone in the room laughs.  That Husband...he's such a chuckle head.

The mousy lady next to me is escorted into the torture chamber behind the door so The Husband takes her seat.  The professor's wife, who has long gray hair that needs to be washed, talks about reading glasses with me and The Husband as one by one the AV participants are lead to their doom. Finally it's my turn...I kiss The Husband goodbye.

Everyone in the torture chamber was really nice.  My nurse, Jane (not her real name), gave me the obligatory backless gown telling me the opening was supposed to be in the back.  No shit????  Do they really have to tell people that?  Jane also said I could keep my socks I did.  I'm sure I looked stunning when I came out of the bathroom in my knee length backless gown with calf high boot socks on...but truthfully, I was trying so hard to keep the back closed so my butt didn't hang out that I really didn't have time to care what it looked like.  When I got to my pre AV digs...a bed curtained off from other beds, Jane said "bare bottom goes on the pad"...those were her exact words. Honestly, if she hadn't said that, I would've been trying to keep the gown closed in the back the whole time I was laying down.

Jane continued her pleasant chatter while explaining what was going to happen before, during, and after the AV.  Then she got to a little part about "having to pass gas" before you could leave to go home.  WTF????  I said as much although not quite so crudely.  "I know...women have the hardest time with that part" she said "but it's odorless because it's just air".  Somehow that didn't make me feel any better.

They wheeled me in to the final chamber where I met the Doc.  He was East Indian, around 40'ish, pleasant, asked me a few questions and then they gave me a shot...when I woke up, I was back in one of the curtained cubicles.

Even though I was sort of rummy I totally remember hearing farting all around me.  I couldn't see my curtained off counterparts, but I'm fairly certain that the professor was in the cubicle to my left as the fart sounds emanating from that area had a distinct "guy" sound to them.  I wanted to laugh...but I had to fart and if I started laughing, I'd have no control.

Please God, I thought, let them be quiet ones as I started farting.  And they least I thought they were.  But everybody else probably thought theirs were quiet too and I could hear all theirs so I don't know what made me think that "mine alone" were going to be quiet farts.  Never in a million years did I ever imagine that I'd ever be in a room full of strangers and we'd all be filling the air with fart sounds.

Still, I'm holding on to the dream that mine were the quiet's the stoopidist thing.

Friday, February 1, 2013

The Pre Game Show...

The day after my run in with Man At The Counter started out wonderful.  I didn't have to start the pre-game show until noon so I had time to go ride in the morning.  My horse did good and all was right with the world. Noon came too soon...

In preparation for my colonoscopy, or as I prefer to call it...Anal Violation...AV for short...I made orange jello.  I don't really like orange jello...unless it's mixed with Cool Whip and cottage cheese with a couple cans of pineapple chunks thrown in...then...yummmmm.  But plain orange?  The only kind I like plain is strawberry.  But according to the detailed pre-game show plans I received from the BD's office (Butt Doctor), red jello is the only kind you CAN'T have.  I thought orange would be tolerable, it wasn't...maybe if I'd had the sugar kind instead of sugar free it would've been better.

After reading the directions for the umpteenth time,  I laid out my plan of action.  I had orange jello ready to go and three cans of chicken broth.  I couldn't think of any other clear liquid to have.  I don't like apple juice which was the only other juice okayed by BD's office.  I had Diet Pepsi which is the only soda I drink and BD's office said "any" soda was okay...maybe I should have had an assortment ready for maximum palate stimulation...different sodas for lunch, dinner, and snack time.   But hey, it was my first AV...

At noon I drank a cup of broth which was incredibly unsatisfying.  Then I took the first two of three pills prescribed by the friendly BD...and after about an hour...nothing happened.  Okay, I thought, maybe the pooping doesn't start until the third pill.  At three, I took the last of the three pills...still nothing.   Is there something wrong with me?  Shouldn't something be happening?  I don't know 'cause this is my first AV.  I mixed up the infamous gallon jug of powder with water and added a "pleasantly flavored orange" packet of powder to it.  I actually had a choice of "pleasantly flavored packets", pineapple, lemon lime, or cherry.  It seemed safest to go with orange.  I don't know why... and I don't know if I chose wisely or not but once it was mixed I couldn't go back and change it.

Four o'clock came too soon.  You'd think the first eight ounces would be the worst...but since you don't know what to expect, you're unprepared for the level of disgust this gallon of poop inducing solution would cause.  After the first glass, you know...and you come to dread the sound of the ten minute timer letting you know it's time for yet another glass full of the noxious liquid.

We have a gag reflex for a reason I think.  It's telling you..."bad stuff, must regurgitate" when you try to eat or drink something icky.  Usually you listen to this miracle of the body...and believe me, it's really, really, hard to ignore.  I nearly puked with every glass downed.  Sipping it only prolonged the disgust so I ended up chugging every was like drinking slightly gelled water.  Albeit, "pleasantly flavored orange" slightly gelled water.  Since I've never actually eaten shit, I can't truthfully say I'd rather eat shit than drink this stuff again...but a dried horse apple may be preferable.

The phone rings.  It's the BD's office calling to confirm my appointment.  The voice on the other end of the phone is annoyingly perky.

“Hi, is this Stoopid?” says the voice at the end of the line. “It is” I say.

“This is Patty Perky from the BD’s office. I’m calling to confirm your appointment tomorrow at 11:00 and to see if you have time to answer a few questions so you don’t have to do it tomorrow” she says.

“Sure” I say “go ahead”...I mean, it’s not like I have anything else to do except drink that crappy gel like water designed to make me shit my brains out. Which hasn’t kicked in yet...which is starting to worry me.

She confirms my date of birth, address, emergency contact, yadda, yadda, yadda...and says “Oh, you should be doing your prep’s that going?”

“So far, it’s not” I tell her adding “I’ve taken the pills and been drinking that stuff but so far nothing’s happened”.

“Oh, it will” she assures me.

“Hey can I have popsicles” I ask.  I remember my mom, God rest her soul, telling me they used to give the oldsters at the Old Folks Home popsicles because they didn't want to drink water and it was hard to keep them hydrated.  Couldn't hurt to ask, could it?

“I don’t know, let me ask” as she puts me on hold. She comes back on the line and says “you can as long as they’re not red ones”.

“Oh Yay! thanks” I'm instantly happy to know that I can have something I know I don't hate.  Popsicles wouldn't normally be my choice of frozen snackage, I'd head for the more substantial creamsicle or fudge bar but at least I can have something close.  Unfortunately, since it's not my normal snackage treat, I don't have popsicles hanging out in the freezer.  Lots of creamsicles and fudge bars, but nary a popsicle to be found...I'm unprepared.

I could’ve had popsicles. How come nobody told me this? And why isn’t it on the pre-game show list of stuff I’m allowed to eat. Now all I can think about is popsicles. I call The Husband who’s out of town but going to be driving home.

My call goes immediately to voicemail so I know he’s still working and hasn’t started home. “Call me before you come home” is the message I leave.

The phone rings again a few minutes later. It’s OF (Old Friend of undesirable snackage fame) “Hi” she says through her crackling cell phone “I just wanted to see how you’re doing”.

“Well I drank the stuff and it's not happening” I tell her.

“Don’t worry, it will” she reassures me.  I think she's laughing.   Everyone who's been through an AV seems
to laugh about the pre-game show.

“Did they tell you you could have popsicles” I ask her. The more I think about it the more obsessed I am with getting popsicles.

“No” she said “they never said I could have popsicles. Do you want me to bring you some?” She’s a good friend.

“No, The Husband is driving home tonight” I answer “I’ll have him stop & pick some up”. We hang up after she reassures me that soon I’m going to be spending all my time in the bathroom.

I contemplate making a run for the grocery store. It’s between 5:00 & 6:00 post-meridiem. I still don’t feel anything except bloated from the “prompt a poop” juice. Maybe I still have time.

The phone rings’s The Husband who informs me he’s still working and won’t be home until around 8:00 or 9:00...shit...I should’ve had OF bring me popsicles when she offered.

I grab my keys and purse thinking I'm going to go for it.  I just know I'll die if I don't get popsicles...I must have them.

Suddenly, and I mean right fucking now...I realize my window of opportunity has passed...curses...foiled again.   Remember when they used to say that in old movies?  Only it sounded more like "coises" because of the accent of the hooligan saying it.  I head dejectedly for the bathroom...the first of many trips.  It's the stoopidist thing... be continued...