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Brian Matuszak column: Your colonoscopy and you: Brian’s Colonoscopy: Part 2

Brian Matuszak

So when last we left your intrepid columnist, he had just flopped his sweaty, exhausted, outer self into bed while his shiny, clean, inner self was well on its way to becoming what the medical professionals call “prepped.”

You see, the next day, our columnist was going to be on the receiving end of one of the most thoughtful birthday gifts ever: a teeny-tiny camera snaked through one of his teeny-tiny places … OK, OK, enough with the third-person references. It’s hard enough being one person, let alone going out two or three levels. I’m talking about me, OK? And it’s time now for the exciting finish to last week’s story:

The Colon Column: Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here. There I was, literally pooped out and in desperate need of sleep so I’d be ready for the next day’s colonoscopy. Unfortunately, sleep turned out to be as hard to come by as a clever marketing campaign for Global Village.

If I had learned anything from my preparation, it was this: when cleansing the colon, a Sudden Southern Distress is quickly followed by a Sudden Southern Evacuation. As a result, my usual list of night terrors — a closetful of creepy dolls, Kevin Jacobsen hiding beneath my bed eating macaroons — had another horrifying item added to it: the midnight bed splashes. I put protective padding down, but between my bubbling brain and my gurgling guts, I barely scratched the surface of sleep.

One lovely side effect of drinking the bowel prep was nausea, which was the only part of this hellish ordeal I’d been able to avoid thus far. “Hah,” I remembered crowing the previous night. “I’m not nauseous at all. Take that, you gallon jug of awfulness!”

The next morning, however, after a breakfast of dry heaves and bathroom floor naps, I was forced to apologize to the jug in a quiet, meek voice. The only sympathy I received came from the cat, who rubbed up against me and purred as if to say, “Feed me. Then crack open another air freshener.”

Finally, it was time for Sue to bring me to the hospital. Once registered, the process moved quickly. The friendly volunteer at the front desk told me she was a fan of my Budgeteer column, which colored my green gills into warmer tones, and the professional medical staff had me prepped and ready to go in no time.

The only setback was finding where to put in the IV: seems my fluid intake had been dwarfed by massive waves of fluid outtakes, leaving my veins as frozen up as a Cornucopia ice cave.

Several hole punches later, I was wheeled into the operating room, brief introductions were exchanged (“I’m the doctor, and you must be the lower colon.”), and I finally heard the words I’d been longing to hear for the last four days: “Here comes the medicine.”

Next thing I remember, I was awakened to the sound of my bowels tooting revelry and just like that, it was over.

Sue brought me home where I slept the rest of the afternoon and, once awakened, devoured my weight in corn and chunky peanut butter.

I found out later that I have what the doctors call a “tortuous colon” (coincidentally, the name of my high school band) and they shifted my position several times during the procedure in order to snake that camera everywhere it needed to go.

But it didn’t matter to me; I was pumped so full of happy juice, they could have spelled out every word in the PolyMet Environmental Impact Study with my body and I wouldn’t have known.

I was done. I received a clean bill of health and my lower colon, just like Justin Bieber, doesn’t have to be viewed again for another 10 years.

Hmmmm. Better get started with the fluid intake now.

Brian Matuszak is the founder of Rubber Chicken Theater and invites you to follow him and his theater company on Twitter at twitter.com/rchickentheater, like them on Facebook at Rubber Chicken Theater, and visit the website at www.RubberChickenTheater.com. He also encourages everyone reading this to get a colonoscopy when they turn 50. Despite what this silly column says, the rewards definitely outweigh the inconvenience. Plus, you won’t remember any of it anyway.

Brian Matuszak

Brian Matuszak is the founder of Rubber Chicken Theater and invites you to follow him and his theater company on Twitter at twitter.com/rchickentheater, like them on Facebook at Rubber Chicken Theater and visit their website at RubberChickenTheater.com.

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