This Is Forty... Getting Old Is Not For Wussies.

I sit here trying to distract myself from preparing for my colonoscopy.

I know, good times right?  While most of the general population escapes this nugget of fun-ness until age 50 or so, I have the good fortune of this life experience 10 years early.  It seems that having two bad bouts of diverticulitis, Ceiliac, esophageal issues that started from infancy, and a family history of colon cancer, lands me smack in the dead center of the radar.

And let's be honest, I'll be knocked out for the majority of the show, so while they video my guts from top (they are also doing an endoscopy) to bottom (no pun intended) and it's unlikely they'll be selling it for profit on Youtube, so it's really no big deal. Except for the prep. That, my friends, is a literal pain in the bum.

If you haven't had to join in the festivities yourself, there's a great article by Dave Barry about the entire procedure, you can read it here. Really, it's quite insightful. When I read this article, I laughed and laughed, and remembered thinking, "Thank God I still have 17 years before I have to do that.".  My dad tried to warn me of the dreaded colon prep, and like the faithful, loving daughter that I am, I stuck my fingers in my ears as if to say la la la I can't hear you.  Actually, I may not have done that, I think my eyes just glazed over.  I am so sorry dad.  I had no idea. Because if the actual prep wasn't bad enough, I have the attention span of a gnat lately.  Which means I have read, and re-read the paperwork from the doctor at least three times a day for the last two weeks, and somehow still have screwed it up.

It started three weeks ago when the nice secretary called to remind me of my appointment.  She suggested that I review the paperwork as there were medications I would need to stop taking 10 days ahead of time. Check. Got it.  I read the papers.  One week prior I was to go to CVS and get something called magnesium citrate in lemon or lime, but no cherry.  Red dye was a huge no no. No red dye, got it.

And then I forgot all about it until Friday, when I spotted some in Target. Lemon only, which is fine, I like lemon. I mindlessly got into line, generally glancing at the cashier, noticing he was a former boss who had retired. Quickly, I grabbed my glass bottles and moved aside, because there's just some people that shouldn't see you purchasing embarrassingly large quantities of liquid laxative. Once I returned home I thought it might be a good idea to check the paperwork again, and sure enough I was to avoid popcorn, corn, seeds, and nuts.

Thankfully, my workplace stash of peanut M&Ms had just run out, but unfortunately I had drank a wild berry smoothie that morning. Oops. Strike one.  I needed to pay more attention, particularly on Sunday, when I could not eat any food all day.

I can do this, I thought.  Saturday night I figured I would get myself a nice salad for dinner, minus the tomatoes (seeds) and cucumbers (seeds again) and sesame and sunflower seeds. So I basically had shredded lettuce with tuna.  Not exactly what I would call a last meal.  Still good, I can do this.

This morning I woke to the sound of cracking eggs for Sunday breakfast.  Apparently my husband had forgotten all about the no solid food thing, bless his heart.  So I set about doing things to distract myself from eating.  We recycled the oil and old washing machine at the dump.  We did a neighborhood clean up for two hours.  We shopped for trucks.  I made risers for the bed.  I did laundry.  And all I could think about is how frecking hungry I was.  I read the list, and drank what I could to stop my stomach turning.  We stopped at the grocery store and I picked up my favorite hospital stay beverage, cranberry juice, got home, poured myself a nice glass, took one sip,  and noticed the ingredients on the bottle.

Red coloring.

What. The. Feck.  Can't I get any part of this right?  Down the drain it went, along with my hopes of having this not be so bad. I revisited the paperwork at 6pm. Apparently I was supposed to start drinking the magnesium at 4. *gah!*  So, I sucked one down.

And promptly wanted to throw up.  It was like eating lemons folks. Actual. Whole. Lemons.  With a hint of vomit.  I attempted to wash the rest down with sugar sweetened herbal tea. A quick search on Google regarding taking the solution two hours late also revealed that sugar interferes with the process of the magnesium.  And lord knows I can't have anything interfering with the process.  So down the drain the tea went.

And then the fun started. I won't indulge you with the details, but let's just say this stuff does what it says, and quickly.  Shall I take this moment to remind y'all that we only have one bathroom. One.  Suffice to say, there has been a lot of yelling through the door.

At 8pm, knowing what I do, I now needed to drink another 10 oz bottle of this stuff.  Sweet baby Jesus.  All the sites say to avoid nausea try drinking it with a straw.  Do you think I could find any one of the 500 straws in this house at that moment?  Hell no.  I did find a juice box straw, which was like sucking my way to a slow death, until I stopped to breathe and it fell into the bottle. Never was I so happy as to throw that bottle in the recycle bin.  2 down... one to go.

So here I sit, waiting for my husband to get out of the fecking bathroom....again, thinking maybe I should just set up shop in the bathroom tonight.

*sigh*

That 6 am bottle is not going to be fun.

*sigh*

Getting old is not for wussies.