Saturday, September 24, 2011

I know my shit

Okay here is the warning…this post will be disgusting. Full of poop and other bodily functions, so stop now if you don’t want to read about my starfish.
I signed up for a colonoscopy. No this wasn’t like speed dating where I did it only because it would make for a good story. It is a long story that involves cancer (don’t worry, not me directly). Anyway here is where I start talking out my ass, ah ha ha ha.
About a week prior to the procedure, I was prescribed a laxative to help clear out the pipes before the colon blow liquid was administered on the last day. I would say I am on one end of the pooping spectrum where a bowel movement is three days in the making. Yes I know, that is strange but not that uncommon for women who routinely eat junk food instead of vegetables.
Well fashion models and insecure sorority girls would line up for this laxative. I mean it was prescription grade. I watched the progression of my poop from goat pellets to soup. I soon nicknamed my ass Swamp Thang as each wipe looked more and more like algae (hey I warned you there would be copious poop talk). At one point, I was going poop EVERY time I visited the restroom. SIX TIMES in one day alone…now that is a lot of shitting.
The day before the procedure, I was put on a liquid diet. This included an instruction sheet with all the allowable substances. Apparently liquid diet doesn’t necessary mean “liquid”. Here are some of the more peculiar approved items:
• Soda pop
• Popsicles
• Hard candy
• Jello (except no red jello)
Yeah they prohibited read and purple items. I don’t know if the red & purple dye would taint the inside of the colon…or if it would just be too disturbing to see red liquid gushing out of your ass.
My bowels were making the strangest noises while on this liquid diet (previewed by industrial strength laxatives). There was farting, shifting organs, snap crackle and popping, and a down right growl (which supports the Swamp Thang is hiding in my ass theory).
The evening prior to the procedure, I had to drink the colon blow liquid. Mine was called movi-prep but another common one is go-lightly. You have to drink down a liter of the lemon-lime liquid. The first couple of glasses are okay. The third starts to make you gag, and the fourth & fifth is a battle of wills. Thankfully my mother gave me the tip of sip then suck (on a sucker…get your mind out of the toilet). I thought the stuff would take action immediately, but soon got bored waiting with my pants down on the toilet. I was able to hang on the couch with Jewed Law and run to the toilet during commercial breaks. He did make me laugh hard enough once to make me poop myself…a little. Now that is a relationship.
The morning of was a repeat of the night before except the product coming out of my ass was yellow water. I wasn’t allowed to drink water, so eventually I ran out of juice and the chemicals made my butthole just dry heave (cringing yet?). Thankfully I am young and strong so I was able to run errands before heading over to the hospital. Granted there was a serious butt cheek clenching moment at the dry cleaners.
In a strange experiment, I decided to weigh myself before and after the fasting and colon cleansing. Four pounds! FOUR pounds of shit harbored in my body (although most of the weight loss likely was due to dehydration and water loss).
Smooth sailing with the doctor. I remember bits and pieces of the afternoon like trying to watch the TV screen broadcasting the inside of my poop shoot. Jewed Law picked me up and said I was all sorts of crazy stumbling. After no real food for 48 hours, I insisted we go to McDonalds (yes I know, serious lack of judgment here), not any McDonalds but ghetto McDonalds over in my neighborhood (again judgment out the window). I stomped over to the counter and demanded a double cheeseburger without the cheese.
After eating my shameburger, I spent the rest of the evening drifting in and out of my drugged haze. One side effect of the colonoscopy is gas…massive amounts of gas…enough to impregnate my mattress.
Good and bad news. Good news, everything checked out all okay. Bad news, I have no excuse now for my fowl bodily functions.
The BEFORE picture...happy and ready to go.

The AFTER picture...drugged out of my mind.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Auntie Lindsay

Here are some pictures from my recent visit to Nebraska. I dubbed the trip “baby-pa-looza” as it orbits around my nieces and nephew. The first day I got to babysit my 5-week old nephew Bennett overnight. My sister dropped him off with my mother and I while she and her husband went off to celebrate their anniversary. FYI, their anniversary celebration was dinner out and a night in watching TV. I guess having a newborn makes you appreciate the old things you used to do. Up till that point Bennett was the youngest child I’ve ever held (or even seen in person). Let me tell you, don’t believe the hype, a 5-week old baby is boring. Boring! I was hoping for giggles, cooing, tricks, you know. Nope. He slept the entire time. Every so often he would open one eye (just one) and decide that I wasn’t worth opening the other one for. Okay I know, all new parents out there would beg for the kind of night we had with Bennett…no crying or fussing, just sleep and drink. I wanted action! My sister said he was going through a growth spurt which made him flash out his limbs unexpectedly. We called it his rattlesnake legs (legs sticking straight out while shaking). Well that was about all I got.

The next day, my niece Ava celebrated her 3rd birthday. She was just about the age to understand what was going on. I’ve been holding on to the perfect gift for 6 months…a purse in the shape of a dog, covered in pink sequins. I figured little girls would like a purse (especially one that looked like her actual dog). She also got a lot of puzzles (she loves them…they are her crack…she is a puzzle addict), some toys, and a big wheel. Of course after each present, she wanted to play with the thing, so it made for a long opening period. Afterwards was cake and dairy queen star popsicles. I don’t know what exactly is in the “starry” popsicle (does anyone) because it is a confusing blend of cream and fruit. I did learn what composed the frosting on my Mother’s cake…powered sugar and Crisco. Delicious but disgusting (like a hot dog). I don’t think Ava has ever blown out candles before, I can’t blame her as it does seem like an odd thing to do.

Show us your teeth Ava (how we get her to smile big).

A couple of days later, we went to the hospital to await my niece’s arrival. Again don’t believe the hype, it wasn’t all that exciting…just a lot of waiting. We kept Ava busy in the waiting room with you guessed it, puzzles. She also broke out her kiddy karaoke machine and sang us the “if you’re happy and you know it” song. Okay, that was super cute.

During labor, my sister got an epidural and boy did it work wonders. The doctor asked her what her pain level was on a scale from 1 to 10. My sister said “oh um maybe a 1”. The doctor looked at her and said “you know you are in the middle of a big contraction”. My sister sighed and was like “oh”. Nice.
Eventually my sister gave birth and they brought in Ava to meet her new little sister. I’m sure she was confused because she immediately started to cry. After a bit, the whole family crowded in and we passed around the newborn. Now she is officially the youngest child I have ever held. I was being super careful because she was so fragile…and disgusting. Seriously, they don’t wash the babies right away, so she was covered in this white booger like paste (yuck).

I got to hold her for 15 whole minutes while the room was cleared out. I was also keeping Ava busy while the doctor checked in on my sister. They had to “cut” her you know where (yes I know, waaaaay too much information), and when the doctor lifted the sheet she saw a lot of blood. Okay don’t fret; the blood was completely normal and mostly just leftovers from the birth. I guess they put you on this giant maxi pad and it protects the mattress from liquids and stuff during the birth. Again sorry for the gross out. Anyway, Ava got one look at the bloodied pad and burst out crying “mommy ouchie!!!!”. Cute but traumatic.

Sunday, September 11, 2011


I’ve found it hared to be productive today with the 10-year anniversary of September 11th. On TV there have been many documentaries and specials memorializing the event, telling the stories of the victims and the heroes. I, like every other person over the age of 20, remember exactly where I was when it happened. I was a senior in college (my second senior year, ha) living with my three guy roommates across from the engineering campus. We were up getting ready for our morning classes and I remember it was a Tuesday because that was the day of the week we could sleep in till 9am (our teachers were all about the early crack of dawn classes…their reasoning was that the contractors started at 7am, so we should as well). My old roommate Melanie (who had graduated the previous year and moved down to Texas for her PhD) called and told us to turn on the TV with no explanation. The first tower had already been struck, and we stood shocked in the living room. I don’t remember how long I stood there watching the TV, or when I folded into the couch with the rest of the guys. I was just glad I was stilling down when I watched the second tower get hit on live TV. I remember Diane Sawyer talking to someone and then the camera cut to a live feed of tower 1. Seconds later, the plane entered the screen. There was zero conversation except for the occasional “oh my god”. I think Diane even was stunned into silence. I am sure many people thought the first one was a fluke…a pilot error or freak gust of wind. Seeing the second, it dawned on us this was intentional. We watched and watched, eating up every breaking story, every hint of speculation. When the towers fell one after the other, I didn’t think it was possible. Being an engineer, I know we put a shit load of safety factors into a structural design. It was just unreal.

Before too long, I blinked (for the first time in an hour it seemed like) and realized I was minutes away from my first class. Most of the departmental classes have mandatory attendance. Being an upperclassmen (and busybody overachiever) I knew the value of each class, and made the two block walk over to Seaton Hall. I think only four of fifteen of us showed (the other three were way off campus commuters that likely were in their way over long before all of this happened). Our professor walked in, shook his head and said “class is cancelled” before turning right around and heading out. I stopped by the student union across the street because they had several TV’s and possibly more information on what the hell had happened. The lounge was packed ten deep with everyone glued to the TV.

Several years later, I moved to NYC. I visited the site of “ground zero” several times, both with visiting friends/family and on my own. The spot is huge. I cannot imagine what it would have been like to be there on that day. By the time I lived there, 9/11 was something of the past. However, every once in a while, 9/11 would be mentioned causally in conversation…like a blip that would pass before you realized what was said. The real New Yorkers would always pause and get a look in their eyes. I can’t tell you what it was…sadness, remembering, anger, etc. Like a breath, their quiet moment would pass quickly and I doubt they even realized it happened. I feel grateful for noticing…my private 9/11 moment.