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colonoscopy blues, or, "How To Braid Your Hemmorhoids For Fun And Profit"

Mugtoe Jones, the Wim Wenders of proctological cinematic greatness
12/12/01
11:38:01 AM
63.231.228.25

I had polyps in my colon back about 10 years ago. I first had to have a colonoscopy done (I think that's what it was), which involved the Doc and his big bohan woman assistant pushin a hose up my asshole with a vidcam in it while blowing air up in me at the same time. Then they did a lower GI and filled me full a this weird liquid that lit up my insides so they could poke around some more. They found some polyps and scheduled me for surgery the following week. When I met with the anaesthesiologist, I told her that I had a history of narcotic use which had given me a healthy tolerance for any sort of painkillers. She assured me that she knew what she was doing. It surprised me a bit, therefore, when I came to on the operating table lying on my stomach with four or five strangers pokin around in my butt. IT HURT!!!!! However, it hearkened me back to my drinkin days. The polyps were non-cancerous, thankfully, and I haven't been back for the suggested checkups since. I know, I know, I should. I have intermittenly passed blood over the last decade, and I probably should be more concerned than I am. But I also drank a lot in those years, and, more importantly, would habitually read and smoke while sittin on the john, necessitating longer stays than the average person. So why should I be surprised when half my insides ended up in the sewer? Not to mention that I was tenderizing my guts with cheap whiskey and meth every day. Co-worker is tellin me to go with him to eat chili. Must be off. Glad I could share my gastro-intestinal anecdote with you. And welcome to the world of the aged and infirm, PPX.

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