Friday, September 18, 2015

On why I was in the hospital

From: Michael "Panther" Green
On why I was in the hospital
September 18, 2005 4:59 PM

So, uhm, yeah.

It seems that there is this great big huge rule for guys when they turn 50. Some, like Scotty, think it should be done earlier. He's biased, because he's almost done with his last chemo.

You have to get a colonoscopy.

Now, the procedure to get this done, is quite simple. The day before, you fast. Nothing but clear liquids. Double check the medication against the list the doctor gave you. The night before, you drink a half gallon (or thereabouts) of this nasty tasting stuff. In the morning, you drink the other half gallon. The effects of this gallon of nasty stuff is that it cleans you out. Your poop is not only almost nonexistent, it's clear liquid! Then, you go into the doctor's office or outpatient office, strip to your birthday suit, and lie down on a gurney. An hour or two later, you wake up, put your clothes on, look at the doctor's face as he talks medicalese and points at pictures and paperwork, and go home.

Piece of cake!

Hold yer horses, pardner.

I'm – believe it or not, and I'd like to not, thank you very much – 50. I get the notice that I need a colonoscopy. I get a phone consult with Doctor, go down and pick up the gallon jug and powder to mix, and wait for the big day.

I drink every last drop. Well, I might've missed a couple. Nasty stuff. I go to the office – it's outpatient – and get hoisted onto the gurney and get stripped, and I'm out.

I wake up a couple hours later, as expected, but with a problem: They said I wasn't cleaned out enough. The next time – and they make sure that I knew that there was going to be a next time – I was going to have to fast for two days and drink TWO gallons of this… Stuff.

Well, to make a longer story shorter – nah, let me keep going.

One of the things that you aren't told about, one of the things that's not in the literature, is what's left behind after this procedure is done.


Yup. The process uses air. I don't know how, but when they stick that little camera up your backside, it leaves air behind (sorry, I couldn't help it).

There's a big difference between what happens when Joe Schmoe walks around and what happens when Jim Schmoe wheels around. Joe lets some of that air right out the door. Clean living, don't ya know. Jim, well, can't. Especially when he's a C-level, complete. It just kind of builds up. And builds up.

I went back to bed when I got home (I'm still dripping from that cleanser); well, there's a line from _Monty Python & The Holy Grail_ that fits the situation.

"I fart in your general direction!"

For a solid minute.

Roll me on the bed a little bit more and:

Another solid minute.

Unfortunately, there was air that still did not release itself to the light of day. And that pressure kept building until – because, you know, I can't feel it – it was causing vomiting. And that was – the amount anyway – why I spent last night at Walnut Creek Kaiser Hospital. Today I'm feeling much more happy. No vomiting, haven't noticed any huge releases of air, but that's okay!

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