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This Day in My History

2000:  Tech SUPPORT?
2001:  The "I love Steve" Club
2002:  Imploding
2003:  Defective Genes
2004Just Like a Grown Up

2005:  The Silver Screen

"The Music Man"

Books Read in 2006
(newest books added 8/15)

"The Prep"

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Mefeedia Video Archive

My Favorite Video Blogs

Desert Nut

(for others, see Links page)

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Look at these videos!
Ben Sings Major General
How to Steal a Bike in NYC
Where the hell is Matt?

Jim Henson & Frank Oz
Johnny Cash

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Wright's Lake

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Support liberty and justice for all

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16 August 2006

Continuing the saga of my adventures learning to get up close and personal with my colon, I finished the last of the Phospho-Soda prep around 7:30.  The second round of stuff was more difficult.  Since there was essentially nothing in the colon by then, I often didn't feel the sensation of needing to ... uh ... return to the dance floor and so I began to dance the shipoopi earlier than anticipated several times.  I began to bond with my washing machine as well.

Also, with nothing solid to block its path, the fluid seemed to pass through the colon unhampered and come out in an acidic form that burned sensitive tissue.

Aren't these tales fun?  (or is that "tails"?)

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With all the 7-Up I was pouring into myself and all the gas-forming bubbles that were being created, in addition to the extra water I was drinking and the broth I had for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I was pleasantly surprised that I made it through the day without being overly hungry.  In fact, "starvation" didn't set in until 11 p.m., when it was time to go to bed.

Solved that problem by doing just that...calling it a night.  I was concerned about how I would survive the night, since I had lost all awareness of what was going on in my bowels.  Like Kimba and Ned's late dog Yogi, I would just be sitting or standing or walking and suddenly I was dancing the shipoopi without a hint that there was even music in the air.  But since by this time I was essentially a walking Betsy-Wetsy doll anyway (pour water in, water comes pouring out), I figured that even if I was unable to control anything throughout the night, it wouldn't be the disaster it might have been several hours earlier.

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Morning:  I want pancakes.  Or a donut.  Or a McDonald's sausage biscuit.  Heck, I'll take celery if you have some handy (especially if there is peanutbutter to go on it).  Fortunately, my procedure is at 10:30 and not in the afternoon.  I've been busying myself by trying to decide where I am going to go for something to eat when it's all done.

I made it through the night without embarrassing myself or ruining the furniture.  I skipped coffee because I was going to stop by the lab and get my lap work done (and that fasting test includes no coffee), but ultimately, I left too late to go to the lab in Davis because I didn't want to be late for the sigmoidoscopy and figured I could stop by the lab in Sacramento after the procedure...and then brought the wrong paperwork.  Owell.

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Back home again.  I have now had a sigmoidoscopy.  I arrived at the office early and found it full of people, including a man and two women dressed in middle eastern garb who were sitting off by themselves.   The television was tuned to Fox "news" and there was someone ranting and raving about the need for discrimination and racial profiling and how "not all muslims are terrorists but all terrorists are muslims and by GOD you'd better believe we need to start racial profiling."  He was advocating a special line at the airport for all muslims. I was embarrassed to look at the middle eastern people.  I wanted to tell them that not all Americans were like this idiot, but I didn't know how to approach them, so I just read my book and pretended I wasn't aware of the awkwardness of the situation.

They finally called me for my appointment and I was led into the little room, told to strip from the waist down, cover with a sheet, and to get on the bed.   It was at least a soft "bed," not the hard exam tables. 

She took my blood pressure (which was higher than it's ever been) and then told me to lie down and wait for the technician who would perform the procedure.

I lay there for a very long time.  Long enough for the nurse to come back twice to apologize for the delay.  As I lay there, I thought about how I hoped there would never come a day when I had to be put in a rest home, or I would be in pain the rest of my life.  I was supposed to be lying on my back and within seconds the familiar jabbing pain came.  There was no position I could get into that was comfortable.  And that was when I was alone in the room!

Finally, after an eternity, "Aggie" came in, a short, personable woman who reminded me a lot of Shelly.  (If someone is going to stick her hand up your insides, it's nice if she reminds you of a friend, I guess!)

She had me lie on my side while she first did a finger exam and then brought the scope into play.  "Relax and breathe slowly," she ordered, as the probe moved its way up and around my bowels. 

I decided that I will forever be grateful for my LaMaze experience.   If there is one thing I know how to do, it's relax and breathe slowly.  I do it all the time in the dentist office.  I can almost go to sleep while having a cavity filled (something I'll test out tomorrow, when I have a cavity filled). 

The procedure was so short (and not really very unpleasant at all) that I could hardly believe it was all over.  My bowel was pronounced clean and my prep work "perfect."  I told them the story of the guy who had made such a mess of the exam room and how I had been extra diligent in following all the rules of the prep.

She told me I didn't have to come back for 10 years, and then told me to go and have a nice meal.  I didn't need a second invitation.

I had been thinking about a Mongolian BBQ place we like near the hospital, but forgot they only take cash, and I knew I didn't have enough, so I decided to splurge and go to Red Lobster, where I had a plate of snow crab legs (I figured that qualified as a "light" lunch, since it was a mountain of legs, but a minimum of actual food, once you spent a long time peeling away the shell.)

I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted.  In truth, I have had some concerns about the possibility of colon cancer, even given that there is no family history of it.  But now I have a clean bill of bowel health and I can stop worrying.

Best of all, I came home to a house with absolutely, positively NO transcription for the psychiatrist to be done, as I am completely caught up to date.

Life is good.



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(If only my butt was really that small!)

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