Hello every one,
I hope you all have had a wonderful Holiday season. I for one am glad its over, don't get me wrong I love the joy that the holidays bring to my family and most of all my daughters, but as for me and I'm sure many of you, I get riddled with stress. I don't know why, it just happens. I am in some ways sort of a perfectionist, and finding the perfect gifts for the ones I love, is the one thing that I am almost never perfect at. I put a lot of thought into my gifts, but for some reason, the gift never seems to be good enough and then I sulk about it. I know, I'm too hard on myself. Christmas is not about the gifts, but its an important part for me. Any way. I know I'm not the only one that struggles with this, especially when I saw all of the last minute shoppers on the roads those last couple of days. I wondered, if they were just fighting with themselves about finding that perfect gift for that special someone, or if they were just like someone who I love and adore deeply and just were too lazy to actually go shopping. Who am I kidding, I think I know the answer to that one.

So I received an email from a very dear friend of mine that was about a very serious issue. The topic was about having a Colonoscopy. It is a very important procedure that actually helps save many lives. Colon Cancer is a big killer today. The email how ever was not so serious, it was HILARIOUS! It details one man's adventure and his appointment with his gastro-enterologist. This story was written by Pulitzer Prize winning columnist Dave Barry ... ENJOY~!

I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastro-enterologist, to
make an appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later,
in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon,
a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at
one point passing briefly through Minneapolis . Then Andy
explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough,
reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but
I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain
was shrieking, "HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET
UP YOUR BEHIND!"

I left Andy's office with some written instructions,
and a prescription for a product called "MoviPrep,"
which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave
oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now
suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into
the hands of America 's enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around
being nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I
began my preparations. In accordance with my instructions,
I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was
chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less
flavor. Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You
mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic
jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those
unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32
gallons.) Then you have to drink the whole jug. This
takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes - and here I am
being kind - like a mixture of goat spit and urinal
cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody
with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it,
"a loose, watery bowel movement may result." This is
kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you
may experience contact with the ground.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too
graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space-shuttle
launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with
you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the
commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty
much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You
eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must
be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of
MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels
travel into the future and start eliminating food that you
have not even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to
sleep. The next morning my wife drove me to the
clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried
about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional
return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage.. I was thinking,
"What if I spurt on Andy?" How do you apologize to a
friend for something like that? Flowers would not be
enough.

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I
understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the
forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other
colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained
space and took off my clothes and put on one of those
hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind
that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked
than when you are actually naked.

Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in
my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was
very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told
me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first
I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this is, but
then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too
tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering
around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice
but to burn your house.

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the
procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an
anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but
I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was
seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on
my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking
something up to the needle in my hand. There was music
playing in the room, and I realized that the song was
"Dancing Queen" by ABBA. I remarked to Andy that, of
all the songs that could be playing during this particular
procedure, "Dancing Queen" had to be the least
appropriate.

"You want me to turn it up?" said Andy, from somewhere
behind me. "Ha Ha!" I said. And then it was time, the
moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you
are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell
you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.

I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One
moment, ABBA was yelling "Dancing Queen, feel the beat of
the tambourine," and the next moment, I was back in the
other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was
looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt
excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me
that It was all over, and that my colon had passed with
flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal
organ.

On the subject of Colonoscopies ...
Colonoscopies are no joke, but these comments during the
exam were quite humorous. A physician claimed that the
following are actual comments made by his patients
(predominately male) while he was performing their
colonoscopies:

1. Take it easy, Doc. You're boldly going where no
man has gone before!

2. Find Amelia Earhart yet?

3. Can you hear me NOW?

4. Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?

5.. You know, in Arkansas , we're now legally married.

6. Any sign of the trapped miners, Chief?

7. You put your left hand in, you take your left hand
out...

8. Hey! Now I know how a Muppet feels!

9. If your hand doesn't fit, you must quit!

10. Hey Doc, let me know if you find my dignity.

11. You used to be an executive at Enron, didn't you?

12. Now I know why I am not gay.

And the best one of all ...

13. Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head
is not up there?