Digestive Drano (part three)

 

Cleanliness is next to godliness.

     That’s why, once a month, I take a bath whether I need one or not. Recently, however, I had to give myself an additional scrubbing because my very thoughtful wife scheduled our colonoscopies together.

     “Couples who colonoscopy together, stay together,” she assured me.

     If it wasn’t for her, I would probably avoid them altogether. Colonoscopies are not my idea of fun, although my younger sister told me she enjoyed hers. 

     “I don’t want to hear about your sex life,” I kidded her, but I knew what she meant. It’s relaxing to be put under and sleep a worryless slumber. Anyone with kids knows what I mean.

     I thought our recent bout with the flu might postpone the uncomfortable, but that was not the case. I don't have a hymen, I have a be-hyman, and it was violated on schedule. 

As I write this, we're waiting for the results. I'm sure they will be okay. My wife, because she's young and beautiful. Me, because all the medical tests I’ve taken so far have come out okay, but I’m now at an age where I know one day one of my aches and pains will turn out to be more than just an ache or a pain.

     For some, the worst part of a colonoscopy is the day before, when you’re preparing for it. There’s a gallon of liquid you have to drink to clean yourself out. Digestive Drano, I call it. It’s usually cloyingly sweet, but this time it tasted like Alka-Seltzer without the fizz. My wife and I had to drink an 8-ounce glass every 15 minutes. You don’t know how fast 15 minutes can go by until you’re waiting to drink something disgusting at the end of it. Fasting is also involved.

     “Why am I being punished?” my stomach wondered.

     A friend of my wife also had to prepare for a colonoscopy. Sometime after drinking the foul concoction, her husband developed a health issue and was taken to the hospital. Her mother-in-law wanted to know if she was going to cancel her procedure.

     “Are you crazy?" my wife's friend told her. "I’m not drinking that stuff again!"

Only she didn’t use the word “stuff”.

     When my wife and I checked into Colonoscopies-R-Us, there were four people already there. One for a gastroscopy, which is when the camera goes in your mouth, and the other three for a colonoscopy, which is when the camera goes up your patoot. 

I thought about the poor guy there for the gastroscopy. 

For his sake, I hope they cleaned the camera.

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