Where No Man Has Gone Before

It's Friday, so that must mean that my Catholic fueled guilt over not posting earlier in the week has overcome me and spurred me to write another missive to my tens of avid readers. This week I actually don't feel too guilty, since my schedule has been as hectic as people with real jobs, lives, etc., and not the pampered show biz schedule I usually adhere to. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday mornings I filled in for Steve and Johnnie on WGN. I always have fun doing their show since their crew is excellent and their listeners are supportive and involved. The unusual hours tend to wreak havoc on the rest of the day. "OK" you may be saying, "what about Thursday?" Oh Thursday...you want to know about Thursday do you? Well buckle up, because this tale of the tail will curl your toes.

You may remember my unfortunate incarceration back in May. Due to early onset (in the age sense) diverticulitis, I was held captive by the medical community for four days. As a result I was informed that the only way to accurately determine if I had suffered some rogue incident or had an acute condition was to let another esteemed medical professional pay a visit to my intestinal tract. I'm not talking about a brief, drive by and wave visit either. I'm talking about a come by the house, burst through the door and take a walking tour of the property kind of visit. That's right gentle reader, I was the recipient of the equivalent of the dreaded alien probe, the colonoscopy.

I will spare you a lot of the more explicit details, since I know some of you have taken this voyage before. For those who haven't don't feel left out, because like death and taxes, your turn will come. I had been told that the preparation for the colonoscopy was actually worse than the test itself and that proved to be true. On Wednesday I had to endure a liquid diet. Mmm, Mmm, nothing says satisfying like beef broth and Popsicles. I had been instructed to buy two small bottle of a saline laxative that should have been labeled "Colon Blow" in honor of the classic SNL skit. After gouging myself on my gluttonous brothy dinner feast I made like a mad scientist and mixed the offending bottle with a little bit of Sprite. To say this tasted like the matter it was about to help me expel would be an understatement. I waited about an hour and then the fun began. (You can draw your own horrible picture from here. I did get a lot of reading done though. Who knew Newsweek could be so fascinating?) I had to repeat the experiment at 3:30 am which made for a memorable viewing of sunrise from my porcelain perch.

I'll jump ahead to the test which in all honesty I can't really remember. I was given some IV fluids to rehydrate me and wheeled into the procedure room. I must note again my displeasure with the size of all medical equipment. Maybe the bed was small so that my target area was hanging off for easy access, but I don't think that's the case. If I am ever in a position financially to bequeath large sums of money, I will lend my name to the construction of a "Big and Tall Medical Center" with gowns that fit and beds that can accommodate someone of greater stature than an Olympic gymnast. Once in the procedure room, my IV was injected with something "to relax me". That was a good idea, because short of a six pack and some dirty talk, what happened next would not have been relaxing. I don't remember dozing off, but I must have because when I was jarred awake by some probing pressure and let out a prison block style grunt, I heard the disembodied voice of my violator assure me " we're almost done." His voice was cold and uncaring. I was then quickly removed from his presence without so much as a hug.

Except for a small polyp that I have been told was removed easily and "looked like nothing" everything in that area is hunky dory. How do I know? Because I got full color, high-def copies of all the pictures for my viewing pleasure. I must say, I did a phenomenal job cleaning things out back there. "Daughter' was both alarmed and intrigued by the Ansel Adams quality of the pictures. No, there wasn't any picturesque ice hanging from my intestines, but you get the point. I'm thinking of signing the shots and auctioning them off for charity. It will give all the people who have called me an "a-hole" an up close view of said label. I won't need to be checked again for five years, which should give me just enough time to purge this memory from my troubled mind.

I'll be taking my tender sit down parts into WGN tonight to begin another "two scoops of Brian weekend". Be sure to catch WGN Overnight Friday night/Saturday morning from 2-5 and "the original and still the best" WGN Overnight Saturday night/Sunday morning from 1-5 am. It beats sleeping, since your dreams will no doubt be haunted by visions of what you just read. Have a great weekend. Later...Brian