Wednesday, 10:15PM (EST): I chow down on a hand full of “Bachman” Pretzel Rods. By far the best pretzel rods on the market. I remind myself that this will be the last solid food I eat until late Friday morning, when I awake from my Colonoscopy. Pretzel logs seem like a weak choice, but considering I’m going to be ingesting multiple fluid ounces of bowel movement inducing chemicals, I don’t want to go for anything to flavorful. This is no time to start experimenting with “Buffalo style” anything! There’s a colon at stake here, and the good lord in all his wisdom only gave us one.
Thursday, 5:35AM (EST): I awaken for work well into my cleanse, I’ve already gone six hours without eating solid food, (It probably bears mentioning that I was sleeping during this time, but a cleansing is still a cleansing) I believe I can now empathize with Gandhi, the father of modern fasting. We share so much, our soul force, our discipline, our, “six-pack abs”, our hatred of the British empire, we are truly united through our common suffering.
Thursday, 6:30AM (EST): I’m drinking coffee but without creamer. Black coffee! All I’m missing is a pack of cigarettes and a “wife-beater”. However, all is not well, this minor yet noteworthy change has me off of my routine. I’m supposed to be eating breakfast now, but I’m all disheveled. I go to make my son Alex breakfast, but because I’m off my routine, I burn his “French Toast Sticks”! Why does everything have to be so difficult?
Thursday, 11:45AM (EST): It’s lunch time and I’m eating canned, store brand chicken broth. It looks like a tupperware full of urine, and not in a good way! I feel lightheaded, and what’s worse is that I have no “walk through the door and have a snack” (or snacks) moment when I get home to look forward to. This is 1st world suffering at its worst!
Thursday, 4:00PM (EST): I’m home now, and I mix my chemical laxative with cold water and the lemon flavoring packet they have generously provided me with. The bottle looks like it was designed to hold bleach. (Which is what the concoction looks like) I put it in the fridge and tear open a container of Lemon Italian Ices. I’ve never tasted anything so good in my life. It’s the closest thing to solid food I’ve had, or will have all day. I’m starting to see the appeal of gruel in some parts of the world.
Thursday, 6:00PM (EST): I drink down the first of approximately 15 glasses of the “lemony” concoction. While the texture is gooey, you can’t beat the oily taste. I can’t believe how much of it there is. How come when I have a six-pack, I sit and wonder if it will be enough, but this jug of “Clorox” seems bottomless. The good news? I’m not hungry anymore.
Thursday, 9:00PM (EST): I have just finished my 9th glass, and I’m done. The taste is relentlessly bad. I’m reminded of the worst things I’ve ever tasted:
1. Sambuca
2. Scotch (I’ve tried, I really want to like it, but like the little girl in “The Exorcist” when she was doused with holy water, “It burns”!!!
3. Black Licorice
4. Too much Mayo
5. The Jets loss to the Patriots last week…so, so bitter!
Friday 8:45AM (EST): I’m on my way to the Doctor’s office. My wife is driving and soon we see the sign, “Colonoscopy’s While you Wait”. My insides are devoid of all debris. The hardest obstacle right now is that I can’t have coffee. I’m so addicted to caffeine that I need an intervention. Uh oh, it looks like it’s time for the big event, it appears they’ve brought in the “A” Team:
In the words of Pete Townsend, “They could see for miles and miles”. I guess that lemon flavored “Drano” really works.
Friday, 11:30AM (EST): I’m awake and I feel as anal probes go, this one wasn’t too bad. I feel that if I was to be abducted by aliens for the purpose of that very same said style of probing, I think I could handle it, nay, perhaps even thrive in such a world! In a related bit of good news, the nurse who is giving me my instructions advises me to try to pass gas liberally throughout the day. A “License to Fart” if you will. That’s like giving a dog license to lick his genitalia. Since I don’t want to be one of those difficult patients, I reluctantly agree. My poor wife, trying to figure out what the actual difference will be whether I have medical permission or not to pass gas, silently contemplates the pros and cons of separate bedrooms. I get dressed, we leave the medical building, hop in the car, and as my wife begins to drive out of the parking lot, I implore her to drive as fast as she can, we are on our way to the Glenville-Queen Diner. Papa needs coffee and an Omelette!
Friday, 3PM (EST): Back on my couch in my “happy place”. All in all, it was quite the little adventure. It was a test that I waited 50 years to take, and yet in so many ways, it seemed like it arrived way too soon and far too frequently. Still, it was the fastest I’ve ever lost five pounds, so anyone who thinks I’m full of sh_t will have to be careful not to be so careless with their facts, apparently I’m barely 2.223% full of sh_t, the rest, like my boy Gandhi is just pure “Soul Force”. By the way, if you get a chance, google “Gandhi Shirtless”, it’s quite an eye opener.
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