Have you seen my boundaries?

So, with things being what they are, it's been a long time since I've written one of those uber-personal posts where you guys get that kind of squirmy uncomfortable feeling because you're learning something about me that you probably didn't need nor want to know. (The words "Raise Head," my response to Dan's getting a pay increase last year, come to mind.) Well, WAIT NO MORE! This will be the KING OF THE OVERSHARES! In fact, you better look around now because you don't want any co-workers or family members catching a glance of your computer screen over your shoulder and realizing what kind of sick-o you truly are.

Today's topic:

I'm having a COLONoscopy. (That was for your nosy cubicle neighbor.)

You have no idea how badly I wish I could go all Katie Couric with this blog and bring you guys into the room with me. We could have a little counter on the screen for all the inappropriate ass jokes I make before going under.

(Just so we're clear, I recognize that colonoscopies are very common and thus not as much of a source of embarrassment as I made it seem---it's not like I'm having genital warts scraped off in high def (too much?)---but I am talking about colons here, my colon in particular, and that kind of feels like a lot.)

The story is this: I have ass issues. Assues, if you will. Nothing crazy, nothing terribly debilitating, nothing we have to go into detail about...but enough consistent irregularities (if you get my drift) that I had to check into things. Given my family history---both my maternal grandparents and an aunt have had colon cancer and other family members have had polyps---the gastroenterologist to whom my GP referred me, thought we should dig deeper (oh, this is such fun for me).

Judy and I just firmed up the details of the appointment today and it's all going down next Wednesday. (Judy and I had great phone rapport. However, as we figured out a day and time that worked and she said that the doctor does procedures from 7am right through to noon and I said, "And then she has lunch?" Judy didn't quite get my joke.) So, that's that. I will have to fast on Tuesday and drink some kind of magic brew and then Dan will deliver me to the hospital Wednesday morning. (I'm pretty sure the prep is worse than what I'm stating here but I've purposely avoided reading about it...though I did read something that told me to avoid red jello which gave me a helluva laugh.) I'll have to go under for the procedure and thus won't be able to drive home so Dan's taking the day off to care for what will be his very sedated wife. (They say redheads require more anesthesia than most. Yes, Dan has already started making jokes about taking advantage of me...what with the doctor's head start and all. Too far?)

When I went to visit the gastroenterologist (a woman...the only way for me) and she suggested the colonoscopy, I was initially fine with the idea. Only hours later did I start to wonder what the hell I had signed up for. Most people don't get colonoscopies until at least 40 and some doctors won't perform them on people any younger because of the risks involved which include bowel perforation (let's pray that the blog title the day after the procedure isn't "Raise your hand if you have a perforated bowel!") or other complications that come with this kind of intervention. Normally this would dissuade me but, again, the family history means I have to be that much more vigilant. I started rethinking things, however, when today on the phone I was asked if I had a living will or a medical power of attorney.

Pardon?

I don't have either, so this will have to act as my will:

I, Lola Mellowsky, hereby declare that should I die during my colonoscopy (which I would not want written on my tombstone...please come up with something quippier or else use a Salt-N-Peppa lyric of your choosing) that I would like the following orders carried out:

1) Don't even tell anyone I died during a colonoscopy. Tell 'em I was found handcuffed to a hotel bed...that would be way less embarrassing.

2) Please bury me next to JFK.

3) Under no circumstances should Sarah McLaughlin be played at the funeral. (Salt-N-Peppa is fine.)

4) All attendees should be required to capture their tears in a graduated cylinder which is to be turned in at the end of the service. Anyone who turns in a contribution of less than 200mL will be locked in the church until they can cry the requisite amount.

5) I don't want a church service.

6) Radio City Music Hall should work.

7) Mr. Dan Lederer will be required to sign a contract stating that he will never remarry or else risk eternal haunting.

8) My rubber band balls are to be distributed evenly among my siblings.

9) My favorite sister should get the most.

10) Please donate all my journals to the most remedial English As A Second Language classes.

***On a final note, I would just like to say thanks to all you FB peeps who wrote such nice things about The Spew today. I absolutely was not gonna show up but seeing what you guys had to say made me remember how fun this can be. Thanks to all of you and to everyone else who keeps showing despite my lack of consistency which is due to a motivational/inspirational rut among other things. I truly appreciate it. Thanks for pushing me out of my funk...That...is...a...what...she...say.