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  • Tanya Hammond

A Humorous Take on a Not so Funny Test

If you schedule a Colonoscopy, you should know laughter is the best medicine. That process, my friend, has the makings of a Just For Laughs stand up comedy show.

We are talking about a marathon race to drink a concoction mixed by the devil himself only to be followed by repetitive sprints to the washroom in what you hope will be faster than Ben Johnson running from the International Olympic Committee when they wanted their gold medal returned in 88. If you dare take time to shut the door behind you or struggle with pants that have a zipper, you might find yourself taking the bronze in this race.

With every successful race to the finish, you aren’t met with refreshing water showered upon you, but instead, you must chug down another glass of bowel brew in anticipation of the next leg of the race. Some, like me, drink it from a straw to avoid exposing all taste buds to the tang of torture and others prefer to chug all at once. Note, no matter how the intake occurs the output remains the same.

Warning, your spouse might see you in a different light if you are unfortunate enough only to have one bathroom shared with your beloved when he or she sees you outside the door clenching your cheeks tight, with your hands in place, like the toddler not yet fully potty trained.

Night finally passes along with everything you have consumed EVER. The next morning ready to face what lies ahead, you look in the full-length mirror giving yourself a once over knowing that some of your least attractive features will be exposed centre stage of the operating room.

The hospital insists you have a driver chaperoning so at least you have someone to take your anxieties out on. Sometimes said person or spouse, in my case, might speak out of turn or show resistance when being handed your purse in the waiting room. Which you need only respond with a snide look that says “Seriously, you’re right how humiliating would that be to sit with a purse? I will just go slip into the two sizes too big hospital gown complete with a blue hair net and matching mesh slippers because that is much less humiliating!”

Then much like a human pin cushion, it takes multiple attempts to get the needle set where the welcome anesthetic will soon be injected. Strike 1, Strike 2 and finally the 3rd one connects and you jump to the head of the line. With one last signature it’s lights out.

For me, the process goes off with precision as expected. However, you will awake to the not so pleasant sounds of your insides deflating. I remind you the recovery room is no place for ladylike manners as gasses leave the body at will. Most nurses thankfully have a wonderful sense of humour and won’t let you leave with out telling you not to make important decisions today given the drugs that were recently pumped through you. I ask the only important question that comes to mind after a day and a half of food deprivation. “Can I eat chips right now?”

I’m glad to have this experience behind me, knowing this test saves lives. I encourage those that might be putting off this potentially life-saving test to

realize a little discomfort now could very well eliminate a lot of suffering later. Who knows the right sense of humour you might even have a funny story to tell.

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