*My 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, '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 sitting

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; all 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 ounces). 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 Queen' had 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 a 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 yelling 'Dancing Queen, feel the beat

of 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