Preparation For A Colonoscopy: Or, How I Learned To Stop Shitting and Leave The Toilet

My eyes ran past the gaze of the box over and over again. Moviprep. Moo-vi prep? Mov-i prep? I never did learn how it was pronounced. But what I did learn was that it was evil.

I cracked open pandora's cardboard box at the seam and read the instructions a dozen times over - one sachet each of A & B into a measuring jug and then a litre of water. A litre? Urgh. I'm something of a pain when it comes to punctuality so it's reassurance of telling me not to worry about chugging it, can take up to 2 hours with it if I wished - clearly doctors envision some casual swilling in my finest whiskey glass of the stuff - to me this registered as a strict deadline. This HAS to be done in 2 hours. Fine, I can manage that. Then I tasted it.

The thick gunk of Toilet Duck ran down my throat and I fought every one of my senses to regurgitate it back. I silently made my apologies to Gordon's gin for similar comparisons years prior and took another swig, hoping a good deal of the revulsion came from the shock value. It didn't. The warmth of the liquid didn't help, despite the water used had been refrigerated, it felt like I had left it out on a hot summer's day for a little while.  I managed two thirds of the jug with only two bathroom breaks. Solid. Weird. Maybe it's just not how I imagined it would go? It made sense for it to stop working when I ran out of stuff to flush out afterall.

I was confident now that it was through - it had been a couple of hours now since I started, so surely it's winding down? I planned on a nice long hot bath to unwind, and cut off any muscle pain I could foresee before an early night ready for my ass to give it's best McConaughey impression. Bath run and steam teasing my pores and I felt a rumble. Of course.

My eyes lusted the bath for over an hour as the wrong parts of my body cried, watching every last whisp of steam die. By the fourth hour I had started throwing up too. Just a litre of Moviprep they said. It will be quick and easy, they said. Over before you know it. The first rumble started at 8pm and I left the bathroom for more than two minutes at 10am the next day - and I still hadn't managed to finish the first litre of the stuff! By 8am I was struggling for the foetal position without interfering with the bond my backside had established with the toilet bowl.  My eyes were burning with tears, my mouth silently running off it's prayers to my intestinal Gods to allow some mercy. Finally all my problems stopped, not with a gurgle but with a bang. The final kiss goodbye of both ends before I could finally rise and take a look in the mirror. Crack-addict. Thank god that's in this year in the North West.

Now came the tricky part - an hour's walk to the hospital..

Tweet me at @Chromosoner
PSN me at : The_Chromosoner
My Etsy Shop: Nerdist Store
My Book: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/1500671223/ref=gno_cart_title_0?ie=UTF8&psc=1&smid=A3P5ROKL5A1OLE