No more love on the runs...

Scatological post alert.

You've been warned.

So I had this colonoscopy and after they woke me up from the coziest sleep ever the nurse was all, "So, the prep only cleaned out half your colon."

Once I was dressed and in a room, the doctor came in and said the same thing to Nick (husband and verified ride home) and explained that she couldn't examine the top half. Which has to happen.

Wut?

I had no idea I still had half a colon full of poo, because how do you know if this much diarrhea is enough diarrhea? Only half-enough diarrhea?

Yes. It was only half enough.

I seriously felt inadequate when the doctor, who I like, was all, "I was sure you'd be clean. You've been having diarrhea."

Did you know that the medical requirement for reporting your diarrhea is five times per day?

No. If they'd specified this I would have said that I was inadequate in the diarrhea requirement department.

So she was like, "Let's get this scheduled."

I dutifully, like the first born rule follower that I am, scheduled for the closest available date. Which was this afternoon.

This coincided with my children's dental appointments. But guess what luck? They happen to be in the same building! On a different floor!

So my kids can get their teeth cleaned while I get my colonoscopy!

I told my friend Meg about this awesomeness of this coincidence and she replied, "Said no one ever."

But Betty has to pick me up anyway. So she'll hang out with them, and then they'll all get me and we'll Uber home.

I think it's rather clever. Or disastrous. We'll see.

So for the second round, I had to stop eating Friday night, then Saturday and Sunday mornings drink magnesium citrate. I chose lemon and grape, both of which were, in the scheme, rather pleasant.

Since Saturday morning I've had nothing but this prep stuff, broth, popsicles, coffee, tea, and kombucha. And lollipops because I was feeling rather sorry for myself.

And then, then Sunday night and Monday morning I had to drink this terrible Suprep concoction, which tastes like cherry cough medicine mixed with death. 

I said before that I have a high tolerance for drinking weird shit. And I meant it. I was great at random frat party shots. I've drunk herbal concoctions that tasted like socks and dirt from my acupuncturist. I can take fish oil with a spoon. I've choked down a variety of medications. 

But this is where I draw the line. I mean, I did it. But it was incredibly tough this time.

I have this belief that I can do anything if I have to. I've dealt with terrible shit I never expected to deal with, and worse stuff I had some expectation of dealing with but had no idea how awful it would actually be.

I always think I can carry more weight than I sometimes actually can.

I'm not suggesting I want to be tested. I'm just saying, if I have to do it, I believe I can, no matter how wretched.

So back to my first colonoscopy.

Immediately upon leaving the doctor, feeling demoralized because I didn't get an A in colon prep, I left a WhatsApp for Kristin and Wendy wailing, "I didn't poop enough! I have to do this all over again!"

Kris and Wendy always, always react differently, with Kris defaulting to drama, sympathy, and if not worst-case, then terrible-case scenario. I fall more on this end of the spectrum in reactions.

Wendy, on the other hand, while always supportive, is more like, "Well, that sucks. Now let's move forward." Which is very helpful.

So I left this message for my friends about the state that I was in.

Kristin responded along the lines of, "YOU POOR THING! THIS IS TERRIBLE!" 

And then she said, 'I didn't want to mention this before your procedure, but my impression from a friend in France who had this done is that you have to basically get in yoga plow position, putting your feet on the floor over your head, with your ass in the air the whole time. It's just so awful! You must be so  naked and exposed!"

Once I stopped laughing, I said it is completely not like that, and you just curl up in fetal position under a blanket, no ass in the air, no maintaining a diffiuclt pose while they feed a tube into your butt. I told her that you're way more exposed when you're squeezing a baby out of your vagina.

At least, not in the US of A.

And Wendy?

Wendy said, "Who knew you were so full of shit?"