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"...orange, 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 glass...it 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 today...how’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 again...it’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...
...to be continued...