Where our hero has a colonoscopy, but not until his wife finishes her heart attack. Or, a really good poop-fest interrupted...

I'm getting old, I think. It's time for me to start scheduling Important Things™ from doctors to teeth to, I dunno... car maintenance? It's that time of life, I guess...

So, this past Thursday, I was scheduled for my first colonoscopy. Those of you who've had one of these will attest to how minor the inconvenience of the actual procedure is compared to the day of fasting and drinking NASTY stuff and crapping your brains out that you do before the blessed event. Stop for a second and analyze that: it's better to have someone stick a snake (that BITES!) up your ass as compared to the fasting, yukky drinking, poop-fest that proceeds it.

Yup.

So, I had the "procedure" on Thursday and my colon is once again on speaking terms with me, but along the way, I ran into some other “issues”.

On Wednesday night, smack in the middle of the preparation for my colonoscopy - at the part where my colon had already emptied itself and had traveled into the future to poop out stuff I haven't eaten yet - my wife thoughtlessly had a heart attack and was rushed to the emergency room (is anybody ever NOT “rushed” to the emergency room?). She’s fine, by the way, so I can continue this without you getting all weird and wondering why I’m rambling… I ramble; it’s a gift.

I called 9-1-1 and then spent from about 10pm until 4:30am at the hospital doing a REALLY good (and really amusing, I've been told) version of the pee-pee dance while doctors and nurses scrambled to figure out what was happening and how to stabilize Angelina. Finally, they did their usual best and she stabilized and was admitted for overnight observation while I went home to figure out what to do with my Thursday when I would not be able to drive – no, I had NO intention of canceling my procedure, not with the prospect of having to do the colon dance all over again later. At the time, I did not know that white wine and beer (Tequila, even!) are sanctioned “clear liquids” or this might not have been such a big problem. I worked out a deal with one of my sons and the logistical issues were cleanly solved, only to be replaced by abject terror when he drove me to my appointment. It scares me to consider that *I* taught this kid to drive... All went well at the colonoscopy: couple of polyps and a great photograph of my diverticulitis. Pictures of my colonoscopy! Fun for the whole family…

But I deflect. I do this when the subject is unpleasant or as terrifying as this is... it turns out that Angelina - my love and my life - has diabetes – which we did not know – and that condition seems to have caused her heart attack. She’s home now and taking medication and resting will be Just Fine Thank You™ in the not too distant future. In the meantime, she’s getting used to her new friends, Metformin and Glyburide (twice a day, youbetcha) and getting to know their cousins, loopy and dizzy. If I wasn’t so frightened, it might be amusing to watch her try to get ready for bed… as it is, I’m worried sick. I'm certain that I'm not alone (sadly) but I’m pretty sure you understand what I’m dealing with here.

So, we’re going to change our diet and our exercise and our… you get the point. I’ve made the analogy of this situation to sweaters. By definition, a sweater is something you wear when your mother is cold. So it is with diets (at least this one); Angelina has diabetes and a scary heart situation (with possible gusts from “situation” to “condition” as time goes by), I will therefore eat more sensibly, get more exercise and lose some weight. It’s a win-win, isn’t it?

Shit…

We've got followup appointments scheduled starting next week and there will be nutrition classes (which will consist mostly of "No, you idiot! You can't eat that!") and, no doubt, changes in meds and ... I'm scared and hopeful and happy that "things" didn't get worse.

Now comes the fun part, eh?

Next?
- vonzott