Hubby had the test today. He’s only… ummm.. How old is he? Let me see… borrow from here… subtract the 5… bring down the 8…. well whatever he is, he’s not quite the recommended age for the test. But because of his mom and dad’s history, and because of some pain he’s been having of late, they recommended he go in as soon as possible.
Yesterday was prep day. I kinda knew what prep was involved. Drink a bunch of stuff and plan to sit in the bathroom all day. But I was a little naive about the not eating part. He wasn’t allowed to eat ALL DAY! Not even in the morning! I knew right then I was gonna flunk the test if I ever take it. I mean WHEN… WHEN I take it. (I meant “when” Agg. I really did.)
He did good though. He slurped down a bottle of laxatives, while I enjoyed some oatmeal. He downed another bottle while I chomped on an egg sandwich. And he fixed himself a third and fourth while I devoured dinner and a bowl of ice cream. Not once did he look longingly at my food. I, on the other hand, felt it necessary to eat for the two of us.
By morning, his colon was squeaky clean, revealing 4 small polyps. These were promptly removed and will be sent to the lab, but the doc doesn’t seem worried. In his anesthesia stupor, Hubby explained he’s “raising” them, and now he’ll have to start anew.
He was soon discharged and left in the hands of the one allowed to operate heavy machinery. (Me.)
And then he enjoyed the best turkey sandwich he’s ever had.
And some soup.
And some yogurt.
And some bread.
And some more soup.
And I could finally eat a meal without feeling guilty.
Boy am I glad that’s over with.