It looks innocent enough. A simple blue and white box of a size that would hold a personal electronic device. The labelling begins simply, "HalfLytely & Bisacodyl tablets." Next,the words that send a chill from the top of my spine to the bottom of my taint--"Bowel Prep Kit."
Inside that devil box are substances that will, in a very short time, reign down destruction on my GI system on a scale heretofore not experienced by TCG, even considering my awesome worldliness. This will be Katrina, Krakatoa, and Nuclear Armageddon all rolled into one in the name of "prepping" my "bowel."
Thursday, July 2, TCG faces that ungraceful process precursing one's entry into codgerhood--the colonoscopy. In many societies the rite of passage into manhood is marked by ceremony. There may be a walkabout or a dreamquest, followed by a feast and much celebration. Family and friends will congratulate The Man and become intoxicated, perform feats of strength, sacrifice an animal or two, rekindle old arguments and end up pissed off all over again. In this society when one passes from young man to old fart they run a (shudder) SIX FOOT SNAKE UP YOUR ASS. This is Progress? Why we fight them there, blah, blah, blah?
The fiends who have devised this "prep" start you off easily. Step 1: Take tablets. Step 2: Mix solution. Step 3: Wait for a bowel movement. Drink all the solution. Step 4: You will have approximately 10 "loose bowel movements," then approximately 200-300 more. You will lose count and for good reason. Some movements you will think should count as 4 or 5. Some movements will jump the shark past your bowels to include the hairs of your head and the nails of your toes. Your conception of "bowel movement" will become transcendent, all-encompassing, with spiritual, emotional and existential components. Your "bowel" is everywhere and nowhere, nothing and everything. You will be forever changed. Congratulations, Grasshopper, your "bowel" is now "prepped." "Prepped" to receive 60 inches of fiber optic technology where the sun don't shine.
Everyone says "the next part" is not as bad as the prep part. Hell, brave, spunky Katie Couric allowed hers to be televised. TCG considered this, enrolling his friends in the media to help memorialize his transformation from wild-at-heart rapscallion to another old dude awaiting his turn at shuffle board. A good idea? Not so much. Catch the LiveBlog instead. Say a prayer, light a candle and get out of the way.
Thanks for prepping me for the prep (read as "Thanks a fucking ton for ruining most of my sleep and idle moments for the next couple of weeks"). At first, I was concerned about said snake, but am recently informed that a nurse will smile at me and administer a hypodermic cocktail prior to the main event. That seems to square the old circle a bit, in a manner of speaking, and encourages me to go ahead and grip the old fence post in return for a decent buzz. So, just when I seemed to have come to terms with this whole (hole?) debate, Francis comes along with the tale of the crap tsunami.
ReplyDeleteGreat. I'm scheduled in about two weeks. Haven't had a drink in about twenty years... am now seriously considering mixing up the prep sauce with some Southern Comfort...
Am reasonably convinced at this point that you may be a bad influence.
(Mike Anderson, aka McCan)