Colonoscopy tomorrow. Happy fun times.
Actually, they’ll knock me out for the procedure–it’s the prep that sucks. The pain is pretty horrible, and I can’t stop shivering. I don’t remember it being this bad last time–but last time I was literally dying, so it probably couldn’t have made me feel much worse.
Yesterday, the local organizer from the AG campaign I’m working asked me to make calls this week. I told her I have a medical thing, but I could do Thursday and Friday, and she said you can make calls from bed. I wanted to say, “Oh, how I wish I could lie in bed. I’ll be shitting everything I’ve eaten for the last seven years and moaning in pain.”
Then this morning, my RFD from the gubernatorial campaign called to ask if I could collect signatures at a town meeting tomorrow. I tried to find a polite way to say it and then gave up and said, “Sorry, I’m having a colonoscopy” on a public bus. So everyone on the B48 knows. Oh well.
I am not entirely convinced this prep isn’t going to kill me.
But I’ve temporarily relocated my office to the throne room:
And I have the perfect shirt. (Amusingly, a gift from a former therapist, years before the UC was diagnosed.)