Dave Barry's Colonoscopy Journal

I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for
a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram
of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one
point passing briefly through Minneapolis . Then Andy explained the colonoscopy
procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded
thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was
shrieking, quote, 'HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BEHIND!'

I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a
product called 'MoviPrep,' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave
oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we
must never allow it to fall into the hands of America 's enemies.

I spent the next several days productively si tting around being nervous. Then,
on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my
instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; alI I had was chicken broth,
which is basically water, only with less flavor. Then, in the evening, I took
the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic
jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric
system, a liter is about 32 gallons.) Then you have to drink the whole jug. This
takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a
mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of
humor, state that after you drink it, 'a loose watery bowel movement may
result.' This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may
experience contact with the ground. MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't
want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch?
This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There
are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours
pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate
everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to
drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your
bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even
eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep.

The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only
was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional
return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, 'What if I spurt on Andy?'
How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be
enough.

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and
totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they led me to a
room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained
space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed
by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even
more naked than when you are actually naked.

Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand.
Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already
lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep.
At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered
what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so
you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice
but to burn your house.
When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy
was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot
tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously
nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the
anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand.
There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was 'Dancing
Queen' by Abba. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing
during this particular procedure, 'Dancing Qu een' has to be the least
appropriate. 'You want me to turn it up?' said Andy, from somewhere behind me.
'Ha ha,' I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more
than decade.

If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in
explicit detail, exactly what it was like. I have no idea. Really. I slept
through it. One moment, Abba was shrieking 'Dancing Queen! Feel the beat from
the tambourine ...'.. and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking
up in a very mellow mood.

Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt
even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon
had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.

ABOUT THE WRITER

Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humorist.