Colonoscopy! Yes, folks, we will be heading south for this portion of the tour. Waaaaaay south.
In the ongoing quest to figure out what's up with me, tomorrow morning I have a date with a very anal (pun intended) doctor named Sydney. Poor man. If I did what he did all day, I'd be tight-lipped and ticky too.
I'm now in the "prep" phase of preparing for tomorrow's fun. I'm hoping this is the worst part of the process. It certainly isn't pleasant, I'll tell you that. Drinking a gallon of salt water (when you're already dizzy and nauseous) and running to the bathroom every five minutes. Woo hoo! It's a party!
I figure getting introduced to Mr. Scope in the morning should be a breeze comparatively. At least that part comes with some rockin' loopy drugs! (Although, hopefully I'll refrain from behaving the way I did prior to my appendectomy. Remember Number Seventy-One? Sheesh. That poor anesthesiologist. Yeah. I'm neat on drugs.)
Anyway. Just thought I'd poop...I mean, pop in for a second to let you guys know I'm still alive. I haven't been feeling very bloggy these days, but I'll try to do better, I promise. I have some good stuff on the camera from when Josh and Margo came out to help us with the flower beds a few weekends ago. Like the little pearl of a video of ox-strong Josh hacking away at the tree stump in the middle of the yard (while we all stood around and watched) - definitely worth viewing.
And tomorrow morning should yield some blog-worthy material.
I've heard some pretty entertaining stories of people "getting rid of air" (without knowing they're blowing the hair back of those around them) as they're coming out of the anesthesia. Hee.
Uh, oh... Gotta bolt!