Archive for category Colonoscopy

HUMBLE TRIBUTE TO DV’ANT….a flatulent zuki sees the light

Good Morning Dv’ant Wherever You Are,

The following account is in tribute to our missing associate Dv’ant.  Nobody does shit like Dv’ant:

Has it ever occurred to the two or three of you reading this peroration that the cause of most misery stems from being constipated?  Yes that’s right.  The inability to have a normal bowel movement is what made Hitler such an asshole.  Historians have now determined the steady diet of goat cheese and fish heads plugged up the average Norsemen so badly they were incapable of any pleasantry thus from shear necessity had to rape and pillage their way to relief. 

Being plugged isn’t limited to old people either.  In American school aged children the rise in obesity has been front page news of late but has now been directly linked to this vile malady.  For years the skyrocketing weight gain of our children was blamed on ‘Happy Meals’ and at last is now being vindicated.  Not only are stopped up bowels uncomfortable, the added time in the system is causing weight gain.  Dr. Joe Philpot of the Children’s Hospital stated at a recent enclave of gastronomes “We owe the McDonald’s Corporation an apology.  We can now prove beyond all doubt the hated ‘Happy Meal’ is innocent!”

Philpot held up his hand signaling a pause, and then said “We’ve been able to create a drilling mechanism that will effectively and gently drain the stoppage allowing for normal metabolic activity” continued Philpot.  According to the good doctor the only side effect stems from excessive gas build up.  When the devise is inserted there is a release valve that is meant to gradually reduce the pressure.  If the attending staff isn’t careful a complete and utter ‘blow out’ can occur leaving the patient with what doctors call a ‘singing sphincter.’  It takes years for the stretched out tissue to regain its elasticity and until it does, every crop dusting and bowel movement results in the old Disney tune “Zippity Doo Dah;” all in A minor.   

zuki

NURSE CUSH SAVES THE DAY….zuki discovers beer

Good Morning Victims of Self-Esteem,

This weekend provided some much needed rest to at last defeat the first malady of the 2012 rotation.  This one has been pretty aggressive.  Not only the congestion normally associated with a cold, but this one included the dreaded dry coughing fit at 2:00 AM.  I took ‘Zicam’ to supposedly lessen the cold’s severity, but it’s difficult to say whether or not it worked.  It’s taken most of a week, and the symptoms have diminished somewhat, but that’s about as long as I remember a cold lasting anyways!  I’m concerned I may have fallen victim to two things; letting hope overcome reason, and a slick marketing campaign.  But to be honest I didn’t follow the directions and was inconsistent at best.

I was walking to Blondies on Friday for Dawn’s (our tough as nails bartender) birthday/bon voyage party and noticed the wind to be howling through the breezeway my pathway to the bar.  It had to be near 80 mph!  Half-way I noticed a large garbage bag (empty) zigging and zagging its way toward me.  Every time I moved it would shift directions and again fling itself at me until unavoidably it hit me in the face and immediately wrapped around my head.  It smelled of burnt rubber but more importantly I was blind.  For reasons unknown to me I continued to walk while trying to extract myself and ran directly into a metal sculpture.  I don’t know the artist but ironically it was an abstract of a man hoisting what appears to be a beer.  I had knocked myself unconscious.

When I came to the first thing I saw was Cush holding a sandwich to my face telling me to eat it.  Words don’t begin to describe the horror of such a visual assault.  Besides all he could offer was a potato and baloney with Mayo; it was actually pretty good.  Cush helped me to my feet but I still felt a bit unsettled and found one of several benches and sat down.  Nurse Cush in his zeal to heal disappeared into Blondies and returned with a plastic cup of beer.  You must understand, drinking beer is Cush’s cure for everything!  Sipping my medicinal beer I was puzzled by his insistence that beer has mystical powers.  “What other maladies do you think beer cures?” I queried.  Cush puffing up his chest replied, “Oh shit there’s a ton of things beer can treat!”  He then began to list them.  “It cures phlebitis, jock itch, sausage fingers, constipation, dandruff, cock-eyed-ness, worts, pancake breath, dry mouth, and makes a damn fine colonic.”  I was stupefied!

I rubbed the rather large goose egg that had appeared after my collision and got to my feet.  Nurse Cush insisted that he pour the remainder of my beer directly over my wound guaranteeing me it would greatly reduce the swelling and ease the pain. Unfortunately, he also managed to spill beer down the front of my shirt.  I made a silent promise to kill him.

Still a bit unsteady I began to stagger toward Blondies and as luck would have it the Littlewood Police was parked in front.  Holding the few drops of beer left in the cup and smelling like a brewery I was arrested for public intoxication and taken straight to ‘De-tox’ for observation.  Jeez.

If the two or three of you reading this remora happen to see Cush please tell him his days among the living are numbered!!

zuki

ROTTING FLESH AND FUNGAL DELIGHT….zuki sets himself on fire

Good Morning People of Pestiferous Intent,

It’s like I’m a rotting tree….fuck, I’m stricken with every insect, fungus, virus, and infection known to man!  I’m telling you don’t bother to check medical symptom websites they’ve no fucking clue what’s causing my current breakout!  Christ I suffered with Acne until 19, and will not accept anything less than a qualified explanation!  I’m washing my new sheets and bedding, retracing my steps, recalling my diet, and generally wondering what the fuck has caused this particular episode in life’s rich pageant! 

I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to lash out like that.  That was my inside voice for hell’s sake.  You know me; I’m usually very measured and predictable.  Okay I’m mostly a creature of habit, and routine plays into much of what I do.  But I’m running out of patience and perhaps time.  The more I try and establish more or less a ‘normal life’, another trial or affliction besets me.  I’m starting to take it personally which deep down I know I shouldn’t but I’m just sayin….

According to the medical profession aging, lifestyle if one has a life, weight, drinking, smoking, stress, and sleep deprivation all play a role in our general health.  I shouldn’t be surprised with my demise given I’m engaged to all of the above.  Even social ills factors into this.  Low income, poverty, and dwelling environments are all contributing to my decomposition.  I don’t have an f-ing chance!  

Well I’m not going to sit here and just accept the inevitable!  I’m going to write a strongly worded letter and make somebody pay!  If I go down I’m bringing two or three of you with me.  I understand it’s not fair but either is the assault to my temple.  I’m going back on the Hunter-Gatherer in earnest.  I’ll begin swimming daily end of this month.  I’ll not quit drinking (my daily 10 shots of Vodka) per se’ rather will cut back and return to wine.  I’ve made an appointment to be de-loused as well as consult a certified Arborist in how best to rid myself of the fungus.  Short of setting myself on fire, I WILL BE PURGED and like a long lost friend revenant and renewed I will again be ready to join the fray.

zuki

“AND NOW SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT”….a.a. loses virginity

It should be recognized that A.A. submitted the following story claiming Dave Barry was his ghost writer.  I don’t know about the rest of you, but it sounds surprisingly close to one of his drunken confessions…you decide.

For anyone who has had a colonoscopy ….

Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for the Miami Herald.

Colonoscopy Journal: 
  
I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy.  A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through  Minneapolis ..

Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner.  I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn’t really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, ‘HE’S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BEHIND!’

I left Andy’s office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called ‘MoviPrep,’ which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven.  I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America ‘s enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous.

Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation.  In accordance with my instructions, I didn’t eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor.

Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep.  You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons). Then you have to drink the whole jug.  This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes – and here I am being kind – like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, ‘a loose, watery bowel movement may result.’

This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don’t want to be too graphic here, but have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch?  This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt.  You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently.  You eliminate everything..  And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep.

The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous.  Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage.  I was thinking, ‘What if I spurt on Andy?’ How do you apologize to a friend for something like that?  Flowers would not be enough.

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.

Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down.  Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep.   
At first I was ticked off that I hadn’t thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode.  You would have no choice but to burn your house.

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist.  I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere.  I was seriously nervous at this point.

Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand.

There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA.  I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, ‘Dancing Queen’ had to be the least appropriate.

‘You want me to turn it up?’ said Andy, from somewhere behind me.

‘Ha ha,’ I said.  And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade.  If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.

I have no idea.  Really.  I slept through it.  One moment, ABBA was yelling ‘Dancing Queen, feel the beat of the tambourine,’ and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood.

Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt.  I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.

On the subject of Colonoscopies . . . 

Colonoscopies are no joke, but these comments during the exam were quite humorous. A physician claimed that the following are actual comments made by his patients (predominately male) while he was performing their colonoscopies:
1. ‘Take it easy, Doc. You’re boldly going where no man has gone before!’

2. ‘Find Amelia Earhart yet?’

3. ‘Can you hear me NOW?’

4. ‘Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?’

5. ‘You know, in  Arkansas , we’re now legally married.’

6. ‘Any sign of the trapped miners, Chief?’

7. ‘You put your left hand in, you take your left hand out . . .’

8. ‘Hey! Now I know how a Muppet feels!’

9. ‘If your hand doesn’t fit, you must quit!’

10… ‘Hey Doc, let me know if you find my dignity.’

11. ‘You used to be an executive at Enron, didn’t you?’

12. ‘God, now I know why I am not gay.’
And the VERY best one of all:

 
13. ‘Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head is not up there?’