he really good part comes the next day, the actual day of the test. Off you go to the hospital with your springtime fresh colon. The adorable doctor talks to you, has someone stick a needle in your arm, and you relax until show time. In the procedure room the test is explained in a little more detail. I think they wait until you’re slightly sedated before telling you that they blow your colon up like a balloon. As Dr. McAdorable was relating the blow up your colon thing,Gird your loins. Don’t try to stop me, I’m going to say it…colonoscopy. There. It wasn’t so bad now, was it?

I know, I know you’ve heard it, thought about it and are on intimate terms with Katie Couric’s. Well, you ought to think about it again. My mother died from colon cancer. She had been bleeding, rectally, for about a year before deciding that it just might be a good idea to tell someone. Unfortunately, it was too late.

Armed with this knowledge, my doctor finally convinced me that my time had come for what I considered to be a humiliating and abasing test. I mean, come on, who wants to have a really adorable doctor, who wears just the cutest socks, stick something up your butt and root around? Unless, of course…no, never mind.

The worst part of the test is the preparation. You’re instructed to take an inordinate number of laxatives and drink a vile concoction named “Lemon-Lime Fizz”, “Bubble Gum Surprise” or something equally obnoxious. Don’t you just hate it when they try and trick you with those stupid names? The worse the stuff tastes, the happier the moniker. They really should cut to the chase and call it “Cat Pee” or “It’ll Gag a Maggot”.

After gagging the stuff down, you wait. You wait for nature, the laxatives and the “Cat Pee” to take its course. And trust me, it does…with a vengeance. A word to the wise…stay near the bathroom, and no matter what, do not leave the house. Say whatever prayers are necessary to circumvent house fires, natural disasters, political uprisings or anything that would oblige the departure from your home. I stress this, not only for your sake, but for the public at large. This is not a time to socialize.

Take heart, the violent departure of, um, matter from your body does eventually come to a conclusion. Look at it this way; there is a bit of weight loss involved, so how bad can it really be?

The really good part comes the next day, the actual day of the test. Off you go to the hospital with your springtime fresh colon. The adorable doctor talks to you, has someone stick a needle in your arm, and you relax until show time. In the procedure room the test is explained in a little more detail. I think they wait until you’re slightly sedated before telling you that they blow your colon up like a balloon. As Dr. McAdorable was relating the blow up your colon thing,

ctor finally convinced me that my time had come for what I considered to be a humiliating and abasing test. I mean, come on, who wants to have a really adorable doctor, who wears just the cutest socks, stick something up your butt and root around? Unless, of course…no, never mind.

The worst part of the test is the preparation. You’re instructed to take an inordinate number of laxatives and drink a vile concoction named “Lemon-Lime Fizz”, “Bubble Gum Surprise” or something equally obnoxious. Don’t you just hate it when they try and trick you with those stupid names? The worse the stuff tastes, the happier the moniker. They really should cut to the chase and call it “Cat Pee” or “It’ll Gag a Maggot”.

After gagging the stuff down, you wait. You wait for nature, the laxatives and the “Cat Pee” to take its course. And trust me, it does…with a vengeance. A word to the wise…stay near the bathroom, and no matter what, do not leave the house. Say whatever prayers are necessary to circumvent house fires, natural disasters, political uprisings or anything that would oblige the departure from your home. I stress this, not only for your sake, but for the public at large. This is not a time to socialize.

Take heart, the violent departure of, um, matter from your body does eventually come to a conclusion. Look at it this way; there is a bit of weight loss involved, so how bad can it really be?

The really good part comes the next day, the actual day of the test. Off you go to the hospital with your springtime fresh colon. The adorable doctor talks to you, has someone stick a needle in your arm, and you relax until show time. In the procedure room the test is explained in a little more detail. I think they wait until you’re slightly sedated before telling you that they blow your colon up like a balloon. As Dr. McAdorable was relating the blow up your colon thing,

thing equally obnoxious. Don’t you just hate it when they try and trick you with those stupid names? The worse the stuff tastes, the happier the moniker. They really should cut to the chase and call it “Cat Pee” or “It’ll Gag a Maggot”.

After gagging the stuff down, you wait. You wait for nature, the laxatives and the “Cat Pee” to take its course. And trust me, it does…with a vengeance. A word to the wise…stay near the bathroom, and no matter what, do not leave the house. Say whatever prayers are necessary to circumvent house fires, natural disasters, political uprisings or anything that would oblige the departure from your home. I stress this, not only for your sake, but for the public at large. This is not a time to socialize.

Take heart, the violent departure of, um, matter from your body does eventually come to a conclusion. Look at it this way; there is a bit of weight loss involved, so how bad can it really be?

The really good part comes the next day, the actual day of the test. Off you go to the hospital with your springtime fresh colon. The adorable doctor talks to you, has someone stick a needle in your arm, and you relax until show time. In the procedure room the test is explained in a little more detail. I think they wait until you’re slightly sedated before telling you that they blow your colon up like a balloon. As Dr. McAdorable was relating the blow up your colon thing,

e house. Say whatever prayers are necessary to circumvent house fires, natural disasters, political uprisings or anything that would oblige the departure from your home. I stress this, not only for your sake, but for the public at large. This is not a time to socialize.

Take heart, the violent departure of, um, matter from your body does eventually come to a conclusion. Look at it this way; there is a bit of weight loss involved, so how bad can it really be?

The really good part comes the next day, the actual day of the test. Off you go to the hospital with your springtime fresh colon. The adorable doctor talks to you, has someone stick a needle in your arm, and you relax until show time. In the procedure room the test is explained in a little more detail. I think they wait until you’re slightly sedated before telling you that they blow your colon up like a balloon. As Dr. McAdorable was relating the blow up your colon thing,

he really good part comes the next day, the actual day of the test. Off you go to the hospital with your springtime fresh colon. The adorable doctor talks to you, has someone stick a needle in your arm, and you relax until show time. In the procedure room the test is explained in a little more detail. I think they wait until you’re slightly sedated before telling you that they blow your colon up like a balloon. As Dr. McAdorable was relating the blow up your colon thing, his assistant was injecting the sedative.

And that was it! I drifted off to a dream-less sleep, and woke to the doctor’s voice telling me it was all over.

He removed three polyps and explained that he was a bit concerned about one of them, but couldn’t tell me anything until it was tested. He explained that polyps are generally harmless growths; however they can grow larger and become cancerous. Thankfully, I’m fine.

The best, the absolute best, part of the entire experience comes when you’re finally home and crawl into your bed. You gently float into the most amazing slumber of your life. You sleep the sleep of the innocent.

I called my doctor last week to find out when I have to be re-tested. They said I was scheduled for 2008.

I was disappointed.

I need the rest.