All good.

I think I'd prefer a colonoscopy.

Just wanted to report that all went well and I seem to have no apparent assues that showed up on Colon TV during my exam. No cancer, no polyps, just a colon that "looks great" according to my gastroenterologist (and reported to me by my giggling husband).

In short:

1) The drink was bad but not that bad.

A friend advised that I channel my long-dead inner beer guzzler and down it went. (Thanks, Jarvino.) It's true that it's terrible---lemon-scented dirty fish tank terrible--- I think I just expected it to be worse.

2) The drugs were good but not that good.

They gave me the Michael Jackson death drug, Propofol, which was disconcerting when I first realized it was such, but proved effective. As I told Dan, I'll never be an alcoholic because I can't take the dehydration, but I could see going the prescription drug route. All I'm saying is that if I had MJ power and money, I might have a home doc give me a tiny nip of "mother's milk" before bed, too. When I confirmed with the anesthesiologist that it was, indeed, the MJ death drug, he said, "But this is how it's supposed to be used...and I'll stay in the room." This was intended to be comforting but given that he was hottish, I wished that he would be heading out before my colon was up on the flat-screen.

Also, unlike MJ, I woke up. I woke up, um, while it was still happening. Fortunately, things seemed to be finishing up at the time and I was still drugged enough not to scream, "BAD TOUCH!" but the perpetrator was still in the house. Funny thing is that my mom told me she had woken up during her colonoscopy and that I should let them know in no uncertain terms that I would not like that to happen to me...which I thought I did, just short of saying, "Pour me a drink like you hate your boss." (In general, redheads need more anesthesia...I swear, look it up!) Ultimately, though, I think the guy probably gave me the perfect dose because although I woke up with the vague knowledge that I was being violated (and who hasn't had that experience?), I wasn't in pain and it didn't take me long to de-drug afterwards.

I did get a little chatty though which is what I apparently do in these situations. I have a vague, unsettling memory from the last time I went under for something like this, of telling the nurse some anecdote about myself that ended with the words, "my dream threesome." So...I'm glad I didn't do that this time. (That's a true story...celebrities were named.) (Ugh.)

3) The emptying of my colon was fucking awful.

All those it's not so badders are lying! That part was terrible. I'll spare you the details but the biggest trauma of this whole event occurred in my own home. Every time I feel a rumble in my stomach now, even just from hunger, I get flashbacks. When the doc told me I'd need another colonoscopy at age 40, I said that maybe 11 years is enough time for me to forget what went down last night...maybe.

But it's done and now I know that death isn't hiding in my colon. The coffee and muffin one of the nurses gave me afterwards (you know I loved every single nurse there) were the best coffee and muffin of my life, though I'm still a little timid to resume normal eating. Maybe it's an OCD thing, but I like knowing that my colon is all Windexed and shiny clean and I'd like to keep it that way.

I'll schedule a follow-up appointment to discuss things further, but there's nothing write home about.

That was actually the hardest part of the whole thing...not calling my mom to tell her all went well. Not having her call me this morning to see if I was ready. She's the one who got me to make the appointment in the first place though, so I'm glad I followed through.

I know she'd be proud of me and my great-looking colon. (Especially since there was no talk of threesomes.)