The greatest colonoscopy story ever told
Or at least the best one involving me that happened this week
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Fred “Honey Pot” Williams has been the subject of and/or a character in so many of my stories that we joke I’m his publicist. I have written about riding our bikes the length of the Katy Trail, hiking/biking/canoeing across Wisconsin, his battle with cancer, our exploits in adventure races and more besides.
My life is better because he’s in it. We have had long, deep, heartfelt conversations on life, success, fatherhood, burpees, and much, much more. I can count on one hand the number of men who have inspired and influenced me as much as he has.
So I’m delighted to announce that this morning, he stuck a camera up my butt.
In addition to being my muse, my friend, and my inspiration, Honey Pot is also my gastroenterologist, and this week I had my every-five-years colonoscopy. One of the last things I heard him say to the nurses before the drugs took over was that the hallmark of my writing is that I do whatever it is I’m writing about.
The implication was clear: I needed to write about this.
If I’m being honest, I debated whether to accept that challenge, not least because I’m still slightly high from the procedure, by which I mean there’s probably not a little green man on my windowsill feeding me references to my alimentary canal.
Or maybe there is, and I shouldn’t listen to him.
As I weighed Honey Pot’s challenge with my own desire not to embarrass myself or overwhelm you with TMI, I got a text from a friend: “You should know I’ve been praying for your ass.”
And that sealed my decision.
I felt bad for the people working at the surgical center. Imagine selling puppies, first kisses and warm hugs for a living, and this is the opposite. Nobody ever wants to be there because being there is the result of spending the previous day watering the porcelain throne. Every conversation I was involved in or overheard included something like, “how are you today, other than being here?”
Part of that is using humor to deflect an uncomfortable situation, and part of that is not knowing what to say. But part of it, too, is fear, so I say screw it, let’s laugh at the whole damn thing. If we can’t laugh at pooping water all day then having someone use the world’s worst periscope to (potentially) save our life, what can we laugh at?
This is so serious that we have to joke about it, and I’m not just talking out of my butt. From Cancer.Net: “It is estimated that 52,550 deaths (28,470 men and 24,080 women) from this disease will occur in the United States in 2023. Colorectal cancer is the second leading cause of cancer death for men and women combined. It is the third leading cause of cancer death in men and the third leading cause of cancer death in women. Worldwide, colorectal cancer is the second leading cause of cancer death. In 2020, an estimated 915,880 people died from colorectal cancer. This includes 576,858 people with colon cancer and 339,022 people with rectal cancer.”
I can’t believe it has taken me this long to mention my rectum. Rectum? Hell it damn near killed him.
Was the prep fun? Of course not, unless you think drinking straight syrup and then pooping water for a few hours is fun. After a while I felt like that scene in Jaws where they cut open a shark and a license plate from Louisiana tumbles out. I don’t remember eating that.
Alternate Jaws joke: We’re going to need a bigger toilet.
But let’s be real here. It wasn’t THAT bad. It’s only a few hours, and the end (thanks little green man) gets closer the emptier you get. Sure, I felt wiped (ibid) out after a bit, but I scarfed down Jell-O and downed a couple ginger ales… and that made no difference in how I felt at all … but at least I got to scarf down Jell-O and downed a couple ginger ales.
Other highlights:
The two best-tasting Cokes I’ve ever had were right after this colonoscopy and right after the last one. The flavor absolutely exploded both times.
Before the procedure, the nurses covered me in blankets that had been in a warming oven (note to self: invent that for home use), which was awesome even though they made me lay on my side which left my bare ass hanging in the breeze.
I’m a big believer that overwork is a scourge on our society, so I used the prep time as an excuse to a) not work b) read 3) watch a Barry Sanders documentary and D) watch a few episodes of The X-Files with my girls. Put another way, I simultaneously had a shitty day and a great day.
I don’t want to brag but they found polyps in my colonoscopy five years ago and again this time, so that means I get to have another colonoscopy in five years. I’m at that age, anyway. Plus there’s colon cancer in my family history and I’ve had occasional issues down there, if you know what I mean, so SHUT UP LITTLE GREEN MAN I’M NOT MAKING THAT JOKE.
Bottom line: I want to encourage you to get a colonoscopy.
Chug the syrup.
Poop the water.
Engage the little green man.
I hope everything comes out all right.