I thought I would give you a complete Colonoscopy Report. I had a regular
physical appointment some months back and the Doctor noted I have never had
a Colonoscopy. He said at age 61 I ought to have one. Especially since I have
a documented extensive exposure to Agent Orange over in "veet-nam".
I went on a liquid clear diet 48 hours in advance. I called and found out
that "carbonated beverages" and Popsicles are OK. Beer is a carbonated
beverage, need I say more?
I received the instructions and a large gallon jug by mail. The jug was a
powder used as a clean-out solution. I started two days ahead of the
appointment. The clean-out solution doesn't actually taste like anything
-- it is mixed it with water in the jug and then refrigerated. I drank a
glass of it every 10 minutes, took a couple slugs of Budweiser and then
went to sit on the throne.
By the evening prior to the 0930 appointment I was completely cleaned out
and nothing but a clear liquid was passed.
I arrived at the Nashville VAMC (Veterans Affairs Medical Center) at 0830
accompanied by my aide'd'camp, the driver, and the usual security
operatives who cleared the parking garage of any alien life forms who may
have been lurking to take me back for retraining.
The GI clinic waiting area was relatively quiet for the VA, with only three
TV sets turned on; one with the Springer Show featuring strange people
shouting and hitting, one with some reality show of wheelchair-confined
lesbians playing freeway chicken with gay truckers, and the last channel
set to the local country music channel where men wearing large hats crooned
about lost loves and various injustices suffered at the hands of gals with big
hair-dos. Unlike the VA emergency room, there were no screams of the injured,
no gargling guttural death rattles, no speaking in tongues by unmedicated bi-polars
and skitzos, no leaking colostomy bags with gurney pushers slipping, sliding and
cursing as they glissando through the noisome messes.
As a "service connected - combat rated disabled veteran" I get almost free
medical care, so I am not complaining.
The appointment was for 0930 and at 0933 a nurse came forth and called in a stentorian voice, Mr. Mann"—yikes! my name.
She had my aide'd'camp sign and attest that he would be attending and remain in the exam waiting area. She then took me to the exam room.
The examining doctor was a Vanderbilt University Medical School
professor, who was accompanied by a couple of students from the medical
school. The other MD was the chief of the GI department at the VAMC.
Pretty high class help for some old broke-down soldier.
The doctor and nurse came in and bid me to disrobe and put on the usual
gown. After I laid on the table the doctor explained who he was, the
procedure and that there might be an amnesic effect from the sedative.
The nurse placed a large needle into my right armpit, first saying "this may
sting a bit" (it did), and an oxygen cannula mechanism in my nostrils. She
explained that anytime a sedative is administered, oxygen is also given.
The doctor complimented me on the fact that I had a person very close to me
presumably at home write my name and social security number using a magic marker on my
buttocks and a note "Please Be Gentle With Me". They all had a good laugh
and said, "well that isn't the first time we've seen that, but it's usually
a tattoo". I exclaimed, "... at least you won't find an gerbils up there".
That caused a great conversation amongst the Medical Students about the
South Park episode where bowel traveling gerbils were featured.
By that time the ever-suffering nurse said, "Now Mister
Mann, here comes the sedative" ... I went out like a light—praying that
I wouldn't die on the operating table with eight feet of fiber optics up
the old Hershey Highway.
The procedure took about 20 minutes according to my staff members remaining
in the waiting room. I don't remember putting my clothes back on or the
unplanned and unfortunate incident with the large window overlooking the
Vanderbilt University Quadrangle's lunch area filled with astonished students,
nor anything actually, until getting into the car and emitting some explosive
and expansive salutations.
Somewhat similar in effect to a gigantic "whoopee" cushion designed by the
special effects crew of the old "B" movie "Land of the Giants".
Recovery has taken about 24 hours. I had a lot of cramping and medium pain
due to the fact that they took several biopsies. Flatulence continued for
about 12 hours, mostly very noisy but interestingly, without the usual
horrific stench which I usually emit.
Note for conspiracy theorists: No evidence of any Space Alien Probes were discovered.
If you are over 50 please have your colon examined and don't worry about the