I will be rooting for your colon and against the tube. You’re going down, tube!!! (I mean that more in the “tube will lose” sense because we all know the tube will be going down and then up and then left.) Sorry, Ces. Go colon!
Yikes. I’ve not yet had the pleasure, but a close friend of mine has to do this about once a year. He tells me that the prep is MUCH worse than the procedure, because you’re essentially knocked out for that last part.
This is one of those times (prep night) where a notebook computer and wi-fi come in handy.
After the procedure, you ARE treated the recovery area symphony- the dulcet tones of each patient expelling the air that inflated their nether regions in a weird, syncopated “Terrance and Philip” meets Philip Glass performance.
So there’s that.
It’s not ALL cold medical science.
He was a champ, and is back in fine fighting shape as we speak. He also sang “Slip Slidin’ Away” in the private recovery room, and then told a bunch of Borscht Belt jokes that he is far too young to understand. He also said to the doctor, “I don’t have to get a DVD of this, do I?” It was like hanging out with Henny Youngman.
Thank you guys very much for the well wishes! Ye nether regions are all a-ok and like everyone said the prep is by far the worst part of the procedure. Having never been put under before I apparently took to the drugs like a champ. I don’t remember much of what I said afterwards but I think I mumbled upon looking at the doctor’s diplomas “No University of Phoenix Online, huh?”
Took it like a champ, eh? Did your doctor say “You’re gonna eat lightnin’ and you’re gonna crap thunder!”…? (Frankly I don’t know if that would’ve been a good diagnosis or a bad one.)
Well, I’m glad for your sake that it’s over with. And very glad that you’re healthy.
Oh, that’s REALLY hilarious–the recovery room antics! Sarah, you must have been dying. lol
After my huzzband got his Willy Wonka’d, he told the surgeon the same joke over and over…something about a golfer with dirty balls…and getting a hole in one… Tom’s post-op instructions were to, “take your balls home and prop ‘em up on a cool six-pack.” Those wacky urologists!