It will come as absolutely no surprise that the increase in stress lately has caused all manner of digestive troubles. I went to see my GI doctor, who decided he wanted to see my insides. Lucky me.
Today I had a colonoscopy, endoscopy and abdominal CT. Yesterday I did what they like to call “colon prep.” That sounds nice and tidy. It’s not. Somehow, when I had to do this four years ago, I completely blocked this part of the process.
By the time I got to the clinic today, I hadn’t eaten solid food for more than 36 hours. I hadn’t had anything to drink for 12 hours. Cranky would be an understatement.
But I have this weird compulsion to do stand up comedy when confronted with medical questions. Sometimes Baby Daddy gets in on it.
Nurse: Do you have a living will?
Baby Daddy: No worries. I’m just gonna pull the plug.
Nurse: *nervous laugh*
I have terrible veins for IVs. I told the nurse it was the reason I was never a good candidate to be a heroin addict. (More nervous laughter.) Poor thing blew two veins before she went to get someone to help her. It wasn’t her fault. That’s not even close to the record with me. And she was a little concerned about the obvious nut job she had been asked to tend to.
I remember nothing after they gave me the juice, which means they are good people and deserve warm chocolate chip cookies when they get to heaven.
It also means I will forgive the physician’s assistant for trying out her comedian chops on me when she was waking me up from anesthesia.
Her: Wake up. Congratulations! You had a baby boy.
Me: That’s not funny.