My wife and sister have complained so much about this procedure that I have made a command decision: I’m going to enjoy this thing.
The instructions said to take three Dulcolax (“dookies,” as we called them in residency) at 8:00 PM, two days prior to the procedure. They have a delightful candy coating, no doubt to encourage abuse. Yum!
So far so good. I’m telling you, y’all are wimps.
Nearly two hours into this, and I’m quite sure that I am still FOS. Color me underwhelmed. Meanwhile, I’ve been helping Jake with his housing application for UCLA. He didn’t want to bother with this, so I put him into the hall for brony vegans.
The dookies worked their magic at about 1:30 this morning. Kept me up for an hour, then I slept like a babe. Jake got his own ride to school this morning, so I didn’t have to face the specter of an unusually urgent commute. As for today, I’m on a clear liquid diet, and sadly I did not buy enough stuff to get me through the day. One can only drink so much chicken stock. Oddly enough, I’m not that hungry.
The real fun starts at 4:00, when I begin drinking the Miralax-Gatorade cocktail.
Oooh! Ancient popsicles! I’m in luck.
I have created the finest green. So that’s what my bile looks like!
All of the Miralade is in and I’m feeling fine. More than anything else, I worry that the prep won’t be efficient enough and I’ll have to do this all over again. As much as I’m enjoying this, I would rather not do it again any time soon.
And, done. The post-procedure crampiness (from gas) was the most unpleasant part of the whole thing. Otherwise, no big deal, and now my colon has a blue ribbon seal of approval. Or something like that.