I always look forward to December 21st because it means that we have turned the corner on the short days/long nights season. This year, however, my longest night came a week early. At least it felt like the longest night while I was preparing for my colonoscopy.
I managed to get through work that day by feasting on a diet of Jello and bouillon. But once I got home and began my actual preparation for the procedure, the night in front of me seemed very long. For anyone who has not had this experience, there is no preparation for the preparation. You just have to swallow hard (and often) and get down sixteen eight-ounce glasses of a disgusting beverage in four hours.
As I darted between the couch and the bathroom, Peter made himself some pasta with bacon and garlic for dinner. The bacon smell was tantalizing, and I planned to have some as soon as my nightmare was over. I grumbled through the evening, shivering despite two fleeces and a blanket. (What is it about that stuff that makes you freezing cold?). Peter reminded me that a colonoscopy is optional, and I do it to prolong my good life.
At that point, I wasn't so sure that I wanted to live long enough for my next one.