Well, twelve pills down and twelve to go. Actually, twelve almost down – one seems to be sitting at the back of my throat waiting for a chunk of bread to push it along, but that isn’t going to happen because I’m prepping for a colonoscopy tomorrow. In case you don’t know, colonoscopies are to 60 year olds what the stake was to Joan of Arc, what the guillotine was to Marie Antoinette, what DTP shots are to toddlers, what science fair projects are to grade schoolers and their parents, what calculus tests are to high school students, and what dental appointments are to practically everybody.
The procedure itself has an inherent “Ick” factor, but that isn’t the major problem. After all I’ll be asleep in a roomful of people I’ll never see again so . . . whatever.
The worst part is the day before when you can only eat stuff like chicken broth, jello and apple juice when what I’ve been hallucinating over is the leftover eggplant and goat cheese pizza in the refrigerator and the heirloom tomatoes I bought this morning.
Usually the final act in this culinary wasteland of a day involves downing
an undrinkable mixture of laxatives and Gatorade – a beverage straight out of the Spanish Inquisition. Gatorade has my endorsement as the most repulsive liquid on the planet– it smells terrible, it tastes terrible going down and it produces terrible burps for an encore not to mention that it is terrible for your teeth – the quadruple whammy and then you use it to cover up the bad taste of something else? Whose idea was that?
I’ve been having Gatorade-induced hot flashes and nightmares ever since I scheduled this procedure and got the instructions which said to mix Miralax with 64 ounces of Gatorade and then drink it all in 2 hours. 64 OUNCES!!!!!!! What kind of person actually can do this and could I really trust his or her judgment??????
I really had no hope of a reprieve but decided to throw a “Hail Mary” pass. I called my doctor’s office on the off-chance that there might be an alternative mixer like hemlock or insect repellent with Deet. Guess what? The nurse said taking a bunch of laxative pills would be an acceptable alternative. She warned me that I’d need to drink lots of liquids but this should work the same way. No problem-o - just tell me how many gallons and I’ll put down every last drop, as long as none of it is electric blue or poison green like Gatorade.
So, I’m half way through and, while I know today won’t make the list of my 10 best days this summer, it
could certainly be worse. I’m relaxing on the screened porch, the humidity has cleared and I’m drinking mint iced tea and Vernors ginger ale. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, an Easter bunny and a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
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