COLONOSCOPY

Yesterday and not for the first time, I experienced the voyage of the Enterprise up my nether part.   It takes a brave crew to venture there for who knows what aliens may be encountered. 

The procedure was scheduled for Thursday morning and the instructions were to have ‘my last meal’ on Tuesday night.   After that I was to have only clear liquids up until midnight on Wednesday and then nothing.

But there was an add-on: starting at noon on Wednesday I was to begin consuming one gallon of the nastiest liquid ever devised, one ten ounce glass at a time, at fifteen minutes intervals.  

Being a math person I instantly recognized one gallon of witch's brew translated to 128 ounces – divided by ten ounce glasses – divided by four glasses an hour meant that I would be gagging down this disgusting fluid for over three hours at fifteen minute intervals.

    

To ingest one gallon of any liquid (other than beer) in three hours is a feat in itself - this is more than should be expected of any human being.  The diarrhea that resulted was actually a relief knowing that that evil alchemist concoction would not forever remain a part of my system. 

  

After sitting on the Iron Throne for a few hours, what was left of me was finally able to go to bed, only to get up at five in the morning to watch my wife eat breakfast before heading for the day surgery. 

The best part of the whole procedure was the happy-shot they administered just before they violated me. 

You would think when I awoke I could have at least expected a mint on my pillow. 

 

Poor wife

The gas still remains

the Ol’Buzzard