For those of you thas been wonderin' where we been for the last few days, I guess I should bring yall up to speed. I put off mentioning it 'til it was over and I could relate the whole story. In short, I been gettin' my plummin' checked. Sunday, I spent the afternoon swillin' down what seemed like a 55-gallon drum of "turbo-lax" super laxative, after having swallowed 4 regular over da counter laxatives for an 'appitizer'. I then spent the evening and into the night strapped to the toilet to prevent myself from bangin' my head on da ceiling as I launched myself up off from said throne, with jet-powered geysers of ...... well I'm sure ya get the picture. By 8 p.m. or so I could drink a glass of water, and it would hit "bottom" 'fore I could set the glass down.
After a 3 hour nap Peg and I got up at like 4:30 a.m. and got ready to to to the Doctor's office for the 'snake camera' exams. The 'turbo-lax' did an amazing job of cleansing my innards and I got pictures to prove it, which, much to yall relief, Peg refuses to let me post. I was so bloated, tho, that Peg coulda tied a tether around my ankle to prevent me from floating around. Good thing the place I was going had no neo-natal clinic on the way; what with the stuff about that pregnant guy all fresh in everybody's minds and all. Well...so we got there and they did the 'scopy' thing up one end and down the other. Before they knocked me out though, I hadda make the usual inquiries like: "Are ya gonna use the same camera for both procedures??? If so pleeeasssse do the upper one first" and "Yall did sanitize that thing from last time(?)... I mean ya didn't just wipe it off with a greasy rag like I do with the dipstick in my Jeep, right???" Well, since it was my very first time ever being 'knocked out', I mighta been just the least little bit nervous, so I remember thinkin' that I was lettin' the Lord know He was the last thing I was thinkin', and then poof, it was over. At first I thought it was the anesthesia guy who had woke me up, but now I'm not so sure, as I found myself in da recovery room with loud involuntary gas noises emminating from under my fluttering hospital blanket and bouncing off the walls, which sounded much like a first year student practicing his new tuba. I woulda been embarrassed, but there were other patients in there recovering as well, who had apparently been tuning up before I got there, and the nurses, who were attending to us, acted as though they heard nothing out of the ordinary, being used to it, evidently. With the test over, I got some great news, "no problems"; I looked 'good' from both above and below. It turns out that this wasn't the best news however, 'cause that meant they hadda look in the middle now with an x-ray machine. That meant I hadda stay on the clear liquid diet so's I could go back to the hospital the next morning for that test.
So, the next day we went back to the hospital, not as early though, thankfully. I got to drink this lukewarm, thick strawberry-flavored sludge, which was well.... drinkable....barely.
Then I spent 2 hours gettin' pictures taken every 15 minutes of the radioactive thick pink muck I had managed to swallow, as it slowly oozed it's way through my other-wise empty small intestines. This caused the most amazing stomach growls and gurgles I had ever experienced. I even had the x-ray techs giggling. Anyways, after havin' my bodily conduits thoroughly inspected, I'm proud to say I seem to have some squeaky clean healthy pipes, which I am happily junkin' back up with jambalaya, and cold beer.