Crappy Birthday

Most humor writers try to stay out of the bathroom. Which when you think about it is pretty funny since we tend to be so full of crap. I should rephrase that first statement and say – we try to keep our writing out of the toilet. Come to think of it, that’s not quite right either as our work seems to get flushed on a regular basis. Let me begin again and try to say what I really meant to begin with – most humor writers don’t write about the normal activities of the bathroom, but then we don’t write about anything normal. Today I deviate from whatever normal may be for me.

Today is a crappy day.

 It’s also my birthday.

The two are not connected by anything other than the date.

The crappiness has nothing with it being my birthday. It has to do with my stupidity and complete lack of planning skills.

You see, when I turned 50 I refused the doctor’s request to have a colonoscopy. I had my reasons. The doctor didn’t argue.

After 50 you are supposed to have one of these invasive procedures every 5 years. I am beyond the number 1 recommendation and the number 2. Somehow I could not get out of it this year. The doctor was firm. I was not.

At the urging of my doctor, off to the gastroenterologist I went. The office visit was a breeze. They chose a date for the procedure. I declined. I had a Board of Directors meeting scheduled for that date.

They chose another date. I thought it was appropriate. April’s Fool Day. Seemed to fit.

I forgot that by consenting to do the test on April 1st, I would have to do the preparation on March 31st. My birthday. I also forgot that the preparation is actually worse than the test. You get to sleep through the test. There is no way to sleep through the preparation. How did a Board Meeting get ranking over my birthday?

So, March 31st has arrived. I can eat nothing. I can however have all the clear liquids I want – until 5 p.m. (Side not: vodka is a clear liquid. Tequila is a clear liquid if you don’t eat the worm.)

Oh, and I can have all the Jello® I want. It is supposed to fool you into thinking you are actually eating. It doesn’t work. I’ve been down that road before. My body knows real food from Jello®. At 5 p.m. I am supposed to begin ingesting a gallon of some noxious mixture they want me to have but my body does not want. I am to drink 8 ounces every 15 minutes until the gallon of liquid has been consumed or until I die. The latter is more of a probability than the former in this case.

Shortly after the drinking of the liquid begins, the crappy birthday also begins. I have set a television up so it can be seen from the room I will reside in while not celebrating my crappy birthday. I have secured lots and lots of paper, not birthday paper, to deal with the crappy birthday. 

Yesterday I enjoyed ice cream cake. We had a mini-celebration a day early at my office. Today I will not enjoy the ice cream cake. Nor will I be celebrating in any way.

I normally take an Ambien on nights when I can’t sleep. I will forgo that luxury tonight as I will be busy in not celebrating my crappy birthday. Sleeping is really not recommended during this event.

So much has been written about the actual procedure there is really nothing more I can add.

Oh except,

                        Crappy Birthday to me

                        Crappy Birthday to me

                        Crappy Birthday dear Wanda

                        Crappy Birthday to me !

 

From the life and mind of:

Wanda M. Argersinger

© 2010 All Rights Reserved

www.wandaargersinger.com

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4 comments

  1. Wanda, I think you get a birthday do-over. And another, and another — until you’ve had a week-long debauch to make up for this really craptastic birthday.

    I’d send hugs, but I’m afraid of squeezing you.

  2. Oh, Wanda, I can so sympathize. My “first one” was when you didn’t get to sleep through the actual procedure. The dr. in question was a very close personal friend, as well as my dr. As he was viewing the results on the computer monitor (at my expense!) he exclaimed, “Oh, hon, this is beautiful!” Well, excuuuuuuuse me. I’ve never considered myself a raving beauty, but from that viewpoint, well, I KNEW he must be blind!

    Happy birthday, anyway. Hope the after-days you will be able to make up for it.
    Janet Elaine Smith, multi-genre author

  3. Wanda, at least you get to watch a TV program about yourself. Hey, maybe a column or two will come out of your ordeal. Good luck!

  4. Oh no! I am laughing (WITH you of course, not AT your predicament). So sorry the scheduling worked out the way it did, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you!

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