Did I enjoy my colonoscopy?
Sunday I started the prep which consists of inducing diarrhea and not eating.
Monday, I got to the clinc a half hour early - my wife cannot judge traffic.
I mean, leave at 5:30 to make a 7am?
I know this is LA, but still.
I walked in.
Signed in.
Sat for about 5 minutes. The "clientele" was 4 black women a white women and me.
My name is called and a short Jamacian woman has me assigned to a gurney. She starts explaining the procedure and hands me a bag to place my clothes in. In addition she hands me a fabric (not paper) gown.
Keep my shoes on, but everything else comes off and into the plastic bag.
I'm folding my clothes and she's calling me to hurry up.
I get back to the gurney and she draws the curtain.
I get to sign papers acknowledging there is a 1:5000 chance of death or injury.
Oh, I feel MUCH better.
She starts an saline IV, we talk more and then Pepe comes to wheel me to the exam room.
Pepe doesn't enjoy his job, douchebag.
My wife drives better.
In the exam room and - another Jamacian women (the fucking place is infested with Caribs). She hooks me up to the heart, bp & respiration monitor.
Sticks the O2 nose piece in and discusses cell phones with andother Jamican colleague.
I am ready to call the doctor, "Mon."
Here comes the doctor - not Jamacian?
American english?
Whoa.
He asks the standard stuff - any history of colon cancer...yeah, my mom...any problem with bowel movements...other than hemmerhoids?...no.
To cement the deal he tells me he's been doing this 30 years - the fucker is barely 40 something - so I shouldn't fret (my bp was 160/100).
"I'm going to give you something to help you relax."
"Huh?"
The first woman is standing over me with my bag of clothes...time to get dressed.
I remember nothing.
Not falling asleep.
Not getting dressed.
Not leaving the place.
I LIKE THAT DRUG...I wonder what amnesiatic agent they used?
I like that shit.
The woman hands me a manilla folder which I open.
Color photos of my colon, cecum and the polyp the doctor removed.
Dude...I get souvenirs, too?
So, today a Jamacian woman calls to see if I enjoyed the procedure.
I had to admit it wasn't half bad.
Sunday I started the prep which consists of inducing diarrhea and not eating.
Monday, I got to the clinc a half hour early - my wife cannot judge traffic.
I mean, leave at 5:30 to make a 7am?
I know this is LA, but still.
I walked in.
Signed in.
Sat for about 5 minutes. The "clientele" was 4 black women a white women and me.
My name is called and a short Jamacian woman has me assigned to a gurney. She starts explaining the procedure and hands me a bag to place my clothes in. In addition she hands me a fabric (not paper) gown.
Keep my shoes on, but everything else comes off and into the plastic bag.
I'm folding my clothes and she's calling me to hurry up.
I get back to the gurney and she draws the curtain.
I get to sign papers acknowledging there is a 1:5000 chance of death or injury.
Oh, I feel MUCH better.
She starts an saline IV, we talk more and then Pepe comes to wheel me to the exam room.
Pepe doesn't enjoy his job, douchebag.
My wife drives better.
In the exam room and - another Jamacian women (the fucking place is infested with Caribs). She hooks me up to the heart, bp & respiration monitor.
Sticks the O2 nose piece in and discusses cell phones with andother Jamican colleague.
I am ready to call the doctor, "Mon."
Here comes the doctor - not Jamacian?
American english?
Whoa.
He asks the standard stuff - any history of colon cancer...yeah, my mom...any problem with bowel movements...other than hemmerhoids?...no.
To cement the deal he tells me he's been doing this 30 years - the fucker is barely 40 something - so I shouldn't fret (my bp was 160/100).
"I'm going to give you something to help you relax."
"Huh?"
The first woman is standing over me with my bag of clothes...time to get dressed.
I remember nothing.
Not falling asleep.
Not getting dressed.
Not leaving the place.
I LIKE THAT DRUG...I wonder what amnesiatic agent they used?
I like that shit.
The woman hands me a manilla folder which I open.
Color photos of my colon, cecum and the polyp the doctor removed.
Dude...I get souvenirs, too?
So, today a Jamacian woman calls to see if I enjoyed the procedure.
I had to admit it wasn't half bad.