Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Tag: colonoscopy

Glaring Omissions

Since I seem determined to tell my medical adventure in non-linear fashion…


No, I will not Google to find out how many feet it is.

Rom accompanied me (I was wobbly and cranky from lack of food and sleep) on the bus to St Mary’s. The Washington bus was crowded and lively. One woman in the front of the bus saw people she knew in the back, and hurried to join them. They were right behind us, and proceeded to catch each other up on their criminal activities. (I have dealt before with the fact that people seem to think this is as respectable as talking in public about one’s job.) The winner was a woman who declared:

“They sent a helicopter that shone a light in the window, and even though I came out then, the cops let the dog loose anyway, and it tore my pants leg right off.” The best part of this story is that our local police don’t have a helicopter. (Nick sulks.)  Must have been the drugs talking.


Did I, in fact, love the anesthetic? You be the judge:

They gave me oxygen to breathe while they got the IV going. I thought pure oxygen might give me superpowers, or at least get me high, but it had no effect that I could determine, other than smelling slightly sweet.

{Back again after finishing the bag of tortilla chips at work. Because somebody had to.}

{PSA: I just read that today is World Rabies Day. How do we celebrate, exactly?}


{No, I did not count the dots; why would you think so?}

There was then a brief burning sensation in the vein, which they told me was not unusual under the circumstances. I started getting groggy, and I thought, “When are they going to get started? I’m sleepy, but not really sleepy enough for them to do anything yet.” Then they said, “OK, you’re done!” I wasn’t falling asleep–I was waking up. So I rate the anesthetic as satisfactory.

Anesthetic is weird. It really is like losing an hour of your life. Of course, it’s an hour you wouldn’t want back.


Live-Blogging: Under Adverse Circumstances

I am about to attempt something that’s (probably) never been attempted before. And I may not be able to successfully complete it, so you’ve been warned.


–which starts at 1800. It is now 1726. I already feel bloated from the pre-hydration routine. But how often can a 44oz soft drink actually be good for your health?

Speaking of which, the dietary restrictions for the previous week prevented me from getting a salad at McDonald’s in place of fries. But that was a sacrifice I was willing to make for my health.

OK. I have a desktop computer, and one especially for old folks at that (love it, by the way)–no laptop, no smartphone–so I can’t take it into the bathroom with me. And I promise to spare you any actual details, so read on with confidence. I’m just trying to keep myself entertained, and hopefully you as well. Sacrifices I’m willing to make, etc.

In the interest of delicacy, but to give you some idea of timing, any time I stop mid-sentence will mark an, um, interruption in the proceedings. Or maybe it’s the blogging that’s the interruption. Anyway, I anticipate doing a fair amount of whining, but you should be used to that by now, and usually with less cause, too. If I end up passing out, call 911. Tell them the World Leader sent you.

The condemned prisoner ate a last meal of fried eggs and milk (prepared by my loving husband, because if I’d been alone under these circumstances, I would surely not have bothered), before being made to drink antifreeze.

I have mixed the lethal solution. The powder really smelled like something I shouldn’t be drinking, but when mixed with water, it smelled like 7-Up. Luckily I have no particular feelings for or against 7-Up.

AT 1804

I have started the solution. It tastes pretty bad. You’re supposed to also drink an additional 16oz of water, and I welcomed the opportunity to get that taste out of my mouth. And if I thought I felt bloated before, imagine how I’ll feel after repeating this process 3 more times. And doing it all again AT 0700 TOMORROW–this is inhumane.

My computer is synced (sp?) to the Atomic Clock, so we’re now counting down to 1815. Suspense is mounting. Rom is wisely staying out in his workshop, but told me to call if I needed anything. I hear mid-period Miles Davis coming from out there. Very nice. (I dislike early- and late-period Miles Davis, so this is just right.)

Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives….All we are is crusts in the wind, as Rom says.


…and all’s well, except that I feel like a water balloon. Did I mention that it tastes gross?

Oh, great. Now I have hiccups.

This is not, by the way, my first, um, rodeo. For the one 10 years ago, I had to drink a gallon of stuff that tasted like cherry-flavored liquid chalk. Now I feel nostalgic for it.

Since he claims to only read blog posts that mention him…hi, Nick!

My lips feel dry. They caution against dehydration–could this be the first sign?


My stomach hurts, as it will when you drink 16oz of water every 15 minutes.

Hmm…could they mean just drink the 16oz with the entire container of solution over the course of an hour? Oh well, I get the impression that you can hardly drink too much water during this process, so it can’t hurt. Well, it does hurt, but only a little. Mostly I just feel full as a tick, as Rom says.

Hmm, Rom just got a visitor. I don’t recognize the car. I’m not going out there, and they better not come in here.


So, so gross. Gag me with a large obstacle fork, as a co-worker of Rom’s used to say.

And now we wait for, um, results.


Well, that didn’t work out, because I didn’t dare get up.

PRO: The sink is right next to the toilet, so I could refill my trusty water glass. I lost count of how many glasses I drank.

CON: I forgot to bring a book. I got so starved for intellectual stimulation that I listened to all my phone’s ringtones, to confirm that I’d chosen the correct one. Then I read the back of the toilet paper package. “Wavy double diamonds and flowers emboss is a trademark.” And now it’s even stronger, “but still as soft as ever!” which I know to be a LIE!

I’m feeling a bit substandard now, so I’m signing off.




Stephen Colbert Ripped Me Off Again!

…with a feature satirizing celebrities’ “lifestyle” lines. You may recall I took this subject on a long time ago with 2 posts titled “I Am Not a Lifestyle Blogger” and “Maybe I Am a Lifestyle Blogger,” I would say many years ago, but this thing is only a couple years old, so I guess not. I guess this proves that Stephen Colbert and I think alike.


…because I don’t have the luxury of forgetting about it, so I’m going to drag you down with me. Well, not with me, exactly.

Today’s highlight was picking up the prescription, called MoviPrep, because someone at the drug company thought they were being funny. This stuff is actually polyethylene glycol, which really sounds like something I shouldn’t be drinking, especially when Rom informed me that it’s actually antifreeze. Sounds like a torture scene in a movie–they capture me and make me drink antifreeze.


Overheard at McDonald’s, a woman on the phone:

“Do you know how many times I could have called CPS on you?….Well, I tell you what. I’m gonna bring the kid to you right now. And then if you call me and I see your name on the screen, I’m not answering anymore.”    911 call in 3…2….1…..

So you’re saying that–

A. The child has been in a situation justifying Child Protective Services’ intervention numerous times, which you witnessed, and yet you’ve never called about it?

B. This notwithstanding, you’re now going to bring the child back there just to annoy someone?

C. And then not answer the phone?

Must I hate everyone?

Stephen Colbert Ripped Me Off!

On his new show, Colbert has a routine where he wears a big fuzzy hat (like Genghis Khan), which endows him with limitless power, and he makes decrees. Well, my 19 faithful readers will immediately recognize this as an appropriation of my World Leader Edicts, which I, of course, was inspired by/stole from R.E.M., but I don’t need a fuzzy hat to make my pronouncements. Seriously, Colbert’s show is excellent, and you should all watch it. It goes without saying, as we say, that CBS did not pay me for this endorsement.


Courtesy of A Certain Person, I bring you (well, no, I don’t, and won’t):


*********AND EGGS

***********WITH MILK GRAVY

***************IN A CAN

As A.C.P. said, “Why am I not sitting in a puddle of vomit as I type this?”


{…because when life hands you a segue, you gotta take it}…

I am going to do something I promised you I’d never do.


Don’t worry, I won’t include anything that’s actually gross. {“How can we trust you now?” they whimper. “You promised you’d never bring up the subject in the first place!” Think of it as my penance for my habitual neglect of my faithful FanBase. Or think of it as misery loving company. Your choice.) The only thing I have to report right now is that they sent me a brochure to the effect of “You’ll love our new anesthetic!” Yes, I’m sure I will.


…and penance, Nick’s latest trick is to try and tell me that going on a ridealong with him would be dull and boring. But I’m not falling for it. For (borrowing from R.E.M. yet again) there is nothing more dangerous than a follower of chaos who is not out of control.

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