Beware the garden hose

On Friday, nearly everyone I know was terribly depressed about the election. I couldn't care less-they are all the same, after all (politicians). They only lie when they are breathing.

All I really cared about was going to Queen Square and doing my exercises so that Tom could see the improvement. He pointed out that his rotation ends in July, and then someone else will be taking over as my vestibular physiotherapist. So-as he said, I have nearly all the exercises, it is now up to me to make things harder for myself. Do eye movements to a metronome, then increase the beat-that kind of thing. Of course, I will be rising to that challenge. I have no plans to live my life like this, using an elbow crutch, having difficulty going out at night, and occasionally falling over. Nope-not for me. At least I will give it a damned good try.

You know when you make a decision that you think is a good idea at the time-and then you discover that it was totally idiotic later? Well-I had these noxious sachets of something called Klean Prep. Mix one with a liter of water, and hold your nose and drink until you've finished the lot. The object? To clean myself out so that Sean could see what is going on during the colonoscopy. And I had thirteen of these nasty cleaners. I was supposed to be on a low residue diet from Friday until Tuesday-then clear liquids only, and nothing but water on Wednesday (procedure day).

I decided to be really clever-and do a water fast from Friday until the procedure on Wednesday afternoon. What an oops decision!! From Saturday through Tuesday-and every night, all night-I had to stay near the bathroom. I had cramps. Chills, felt sick-and so hungry by Sunday night that I thought my stomach was going to shake hands with my backbone. But I couldn't eat anything- because I'd committed to the fast, and it was really too late to eat anything. I was afraid that, after all this trauma and discomfort, I still had stuff in my intestines, and all my efforts would have come to nothing. So I stuck to it. Idiot-I got to the hospital on Wednesday and nearly passed out. My blood sugar had dropped, and I was really told off about fasting for nearly six days straight. Sean gave me a lecture-and I promised that next time I would behave, and follow directions (I never follow directions).

You haven't lived until you have had someone shove what looks suspiciously like a garden hose up your rectum. It is downright embarrassing to go to the hospital, lie on a table in a freezing room with your naked butt hanging out-and having someone come up behind you to Roto Rooter your ass. That is not my idea of a fun day out, I can tell you. And Sean knows my insides better than anyone (that doesn't sound good, does it?). So I cracked jokes, and he cracked a few back-and I kept twisting around to see the screen, which someone had kindly put nearby.

When it was all over (everything is fine, I go back next year-and it'll probably take a year to recover), I was put in the recovery room with several other patients who'd had the same procedure. Now-one of the things that they do is use a pump to fill the abdomen full of air so they can see more clearly. Acting on the principle that what goes in must come out, there were sound effects. I started to laugh because I thought of the campfire scene from Blazing Saddles. I said that to Sean when he came to check on me-and he started to laugh. In fact, one of the nurses thought that was hilarious-turns out that she is a big Mel Brooks fan, and we all had a good laugh. Then she said that she remembered me from last year-I'd cracked a joke about anal sex (anyone who likes it must be either masochistic or have no nerve endings). And Sean turned to her and said that now she knows why he likes it when I have to come in for a procedure-nobody else jokes. The nurse hugged me when I left, and I promised to have some new material for the next colonoscopy. And I came home and stuffed my face with everything that wasn't nailed down. I didn't feel better until now. Stuff the six day fast!

The only problem I have now is that I still blow myself down the road when I go for a walk. I just keep hoping that whoever is walking behind me doesn't decide to light a match.