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Friday, August 17, 2012

The Metamucil Wars, Pt 2

Saw the gastro-doc.

The office was in an area of other health-care providers, like a strip mall for doctors. The lady on the phone said their office was near the big apple sign. I thought that was weird. I don't know why. But there it was, a big red apple parked near the street.

The office was quiet as church. I was in the waiting room with another guy. We didn't make eye-contact. It was more customary than nervousness, but I couldn't help wondering what his deal was. I was there to discuss a colonoscopy. He probably was to. I thought that was weird. I don't know why.

The gastro-doc was a nice guy. Easy to talk to. I went through the symptoms. I had the impression he was not impressed. I suppose he was accustomed to people crapping out a colon, not some 40-something guy complaining about loose bowels.

Blood in stool? No.

Pain? No.

Sounds more like the flu. Scribble, scribble. But we can do a scope, make sure everything's doing what it's suppose to. Handshake. Make an appointment, we'll do this.

I feel better. I also feel my wallet getting lighter. But I should do this, yeah. Just to be sure.

Bowel prepping is fun!

The nurse makes my appointment and goes through the instructions of the BOWEL PREP KIT I'm going to buy from the pharmacy. Those words seemed abnormally large on the box. There was also a lot of emphasis on NO RED DYE. Evidently, every organ in my body will be cleansed. I was instructed to always stay within leaping distance of a toilet.

Because we want your colon to look like this. There's a picture of a glistening pink tunnel that, in her opinion, is a wonderful colon.

Not this. This picture looks like a colon smoked a pack of Marlboro Reds.

We'll see you next week, she says.

Next week. Sounds like a date. One I will sleep through.


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