It begins with the gurgling of an almost-empty stomach.
Two glasses of Miralax and Gatorade in, and the stomach has started a conversation with itself. I’d been on the recommended liquid diet for an extra day because I do not want anything to mess with the results of my first colonoscopy, and my first thoughts as this ordeal begins are all about food.
Solid food. Rich, creamy, hot, fried, filling food. Any fucking food – I’d gladly gobble up a saltine or a Ritz like they were caviar on lobster right now. So no, I do not enjoy a liquid diet. That was news to me – I thought I might, and that it wouldn’t bother me. Not happening.
A few more minutes remain before the third glass (I have to down a total of eight – for a full 64 ounces of blue gatorade and the first bottle of Miralax powder – then do it all over again tomorrow morning.)
Everyone says the prep is the hardest part, and I am dreading what might start shooting out of me at any moment, as much as I am worried about shitting the bed – something I have never done before in my life. I’m also concerned based on what people have told me about all the wiping and chafing that’s about to go down. A pack of Huggies baby wipes stands at the ready. Will 56 be enough? I wonder…
The stomach gives a moan and a yelp.
Strangely, I do not mind the blue gatorade that much. I thought I would. The orange stand-by is cooling in the fridge for tomorrow. I didn’t want to do all of one flavor because… boring! Once upon a drunken day I would have done all of this with vodka and had quite the time. Just kidding – you cannot do this with liquor (he said like some goddamn public service announcement). These internal dialogues should probably not find their way onto the internet, but what do I care? My ass is about to explode and there are no more fucks to give.
Third glass down, and almost halfway there. When does the madness kick in? I keep on waiting, anticipating, but I can’t wait forever…
Ok, four glasses in and half-way done with the pitcher. Thank God I usually drink about eighty ounces of water a day (it’s true) because that has definitely helped prepare me for downing this much liquid in more or less a single sitting.
Oh… something just bubbled up big-time in the belly. It may not be happy with me. But after tonight I’ll tell it to talk to my butt if it wants to complain.
Five glasses down and a lot more gurgling is happening inside. This doesn’t sound good. My stomach is talking back to me and it’s sassy as fuck. If I ever get out of this alive I’m gonna drown it in Buffalo chicken everything. That’ll show it.
My tummy seems to be making gasps for air, and I rest my hand on it, silently apologizing for all that I’ve already done to it. I can’t even face my asshole for all the horrors I’m about to inflict on that. (I actually haven’t punished it as much as you probably think I have – and all that’s about to change tonight.)
Stepped away from the laptop around glass six, and now I’ve gulped down glass seven with just one more to go. Things are definitely in motion, and it’s almost time to shit, I mean shut this post down.
Oh… HOLY FUCK…
{To be continued…?}
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