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2005-05-23 @ 9:07 p.m.
skip the poop, fantastic

It was definitely a case of major drama queendom this morning. Arghh! I’m so angry at myself for losing control. On the one hand I can see that I was wrong and that people were just following rules, but on the other hand I think that maybe I was just an eensy, weensy bit right for getting so angry this morning.

I had a colonoscopy scheduled for this morning. I’ve been waiting for this appointment since last March. It’s not like yippee! A Colonoscopy! But I was concerned because of something my doctor had found during a pap smear, so she sent me to a doctor who had given me a colonoscopy two years ago. He was a very pleasant Asian man....Dr. Ted. I had had no problems with him whatsoever. He had found some pre-cancer polyps back then, but had taken them out and everything seemed fine.

So, if you know anything about a colonoscopy, you know there is a prep period beforehand, namely that you can’t eat anything the day before and that you take this loverly medication which makes you poop every last, everlovin' molecule of poop out of your entire system. Whee!

That was my day yesterday. No food, although I chewed an awful lot of gum. I was supposed to go see a musical production of “Man of La Mancha” with my mom, but she’s been ill the last couple of days. Now when my mom is ill, everyone must suffer. Its the rule. I tried to get her to go to the ER on Friday, because she was in such pain from a back problem. I begged her. Yelled at her. Pleaded with her. And then made her feel guilty (I learned THAT from the master. Thanks mom) and still couldn’t get her to take care of herself.

So I went to the show anyways with her nutty friend, “M”, the lady who makes peanut butter sandwiches for squirrels. I thought I would let her drive since her car is about 12 years newer than mine and the show was up in the hills at a nearby college theatre. Did I mention that “M” is a little nutty? Oh yes! I may be bipolar, but I look like a rank amateur next to “M”, who basically never stops talking....ever and she talks all helter skelter like about men, squirrels, birds, sex, cars, jobs, anger, plastic wrap, solar paneling, sunflowers, sexual deviates, rhubarb, peanut butter, playing with her kitties, the married man she was cheating with for 10 years, all within a 3 minute span. I guess its safe to say that “M” speaks with no commas.

But that was nothing compared to her driving abilities, which were slim to none. It is truly a measure of my luck or god’s will, that I’m here typing this, because this woman was driving up on this curvy, poorly paved, hilly country road at 70 freakin’ mph. And I was already a little weak from hunger, so the ride seemed especially hair raising, I think because as she talked, she’d look at me and veer off the edge of the road, which had many a deep, rutty culvert to swallow Buicks up with. I did finally ask her to slow down, telling her that if some wild creature were to step out into the road unexpectedly, we’d probably cream it. I knew appealing to her love of animals would probably do the trick and it did somewhat, because she finally slowed down but she was still swerving off the edges of the road as we came down into the little village where we were going.

The show was pretty good. Our foremost local Ham Actor Supreme had the lead of course, and while he has a lovely voice, he couldn’t act his way out of a parking ticket. I was later laughing with “M” on the way home (she was a lot calmer. She won a 50/50 drawing at the show and won $50!!), because the Ham Actor Supreme’s death scene was so hilarious. He had on this big exaggerated beard and mustache and he kept doing this melodramatic coughing, as he was dying and it looked ridiculous because his fake mustache which I think, was hanging by a single nose hair, was twitching like a spastic weasel.

I did finally start to falter with the no eating thing around dinner time. I ate drank my small bowl of broth soup and really wanted something more, but fortunately my friend called from California and we talked for 2 hours. It was great! But during the last 1/2 hour of those two hours I took the medication which is supposed to help me “evacuate my bowel” (run for your lives!!!). I wasn’t sure how long it would take to work, but I figured I could tell my friend I had to take a potty break and it would be cool. This was at 7 p.m.

At 11 p.m. after watching my fave “Desperate Housewives” and working on some of my posters, I still hadn’t gone to the bathroom. It seemed strange because this stuff usually works very within an hour. By 1 a.m. I was dropping “A” a note telling him that I was going in for the colonoscopy and the No Poop dilemma. Yeah, like he could really do anything, witty. And then this morning...bathroom...nothing. Fruck! My case mgr. came and picked me up about 8:50 a.m. When she heard that my mom wasn’t available, she subsequently arranged for a cab to pick me up afterwards. So I went in, all ready for the camera up the arse thing and then came the two key questions. Who’s waiting for you in the lobby? No one. Um, ok, well then who’s taking you home? A cab driver.

I guess those were the wrong answers. I told them about my mom being ill and not being able to come in and they really didn’t care about the circumstances, they just wanted someone to take me home and be there with me. Ha! My mom wasn’t going to do that anyways. She didn’t do that last time. She just dropped me off and I slept the rest of the day. I even drove myself home after my last colonoscopy according to my mom. I actually have no recollection whatsoever of doing that, when I was telling my mom what happened today.

I drove home? Really? Was I heavily sedated? Weren’t you kind of scared letting a drugged up bipolar drive your car? The answers to those questions were as followed: Yes, yes, not sure, No.

They then asked, “Well, don’t you have any friends who could come get you?” Well, no. Married Guy was my only friend on the East Coast and we haven’t spoken since October.

“Other family members?” Oh pah’leaze. I have one brother, who lives 8 miles from me and I haven’t seen him since 1970. And then my other brother, Guido Obnoxious, who actually lives about 1/5 of a mile from the medical center....but well, it would really be dependent on whether the planets were lined up correctly as to whether he’d be able to come over. Guido really runs hot and cold. Sometimes he doesn’t want anything to do with the family and will bitterly complain about how fucked up we all are and then he can be totally charming and generous. Unfortunately, you just don’t really ever know which day is which, until you see him and even then his moods can change on a dime. Its for that reason, I rarely see him.

By then Dr. Ted was poking his head through the curtains. How was your stool? Loose and watery? No. The inscrutable Doctor Ted’s face just changed slightly when he said, “Well, then I guess we’ll have to wait.”

Wait?? But I already fasted and took the diarrhea medicine and somebody drove me all the way over here and I’ve already missed work and I have no way home until a cab arrives in three hours... Wait??

Dr. Ted: “You could come in tomorrow afternoon.”

Witty: So does that mean I could eat this morning and then start fasting since its tomorrow afternoon?

Dr. Ted’s face breaks into a big grin. “Oh no, you would just keep fasting until tomorrow afternoon and then we’d give you different prep medicine.”

“Fasting until in not eating for over 48 hours, taking a second dose of poop medicine and scrambling around to get people to pick me up a second time when I know its not going to happen?”

By then Dr. Ted had disappeared and the nurse who had asked me all the invaluable questions wanted to see when I could come in again. Tomorrow no. Wednesday, June 15? No that’s my St@ff D@y at work....a chance to get paid 8 hours pay for having fun and getting fed. Not giving that up. She then kept shooting out dates on Mondays and Wednesday and I just can’t do Wednesdays. Thats my art class. Thats the only fun I have. I don’t want to be zonked out and not be able to go, especially in June since we’re having all our special events. And Monday, June 6, is the day after my mom’s birthday, and I wouldn’t be able to fast since I’m taking her out to breakfast and we’re doing cake at my aunt’s house. So I was getting really frustrated.

I was mainly frustrated because I gone through all this garbage and they weren’t going to do it. And I was what’s up with this damn medication that didn’t do its job? And then ....oh shit, I’m losing hours at work because of this? And then the damn it all.... I’m all the way on the other side of town without a car. And then the what the stomach feels like I imbibed snake testicles or something. It was making all sorts of bizarre noises (and still is). I was, in fact, getting angrier and angrier by the moment.

Plus while we were having this conversation, we were firmly ensconced in the middle of a major Fart Opera. There were people farting all over the damn place. People, I guess, who had just had their procedures and were re-enacting the scene from “Blazing Saddles” recovering in a semi-blissful state non-discretional fartopia.

I finally had had enough. I just threw up my hands like a big ol’ mega drama queen and said “Forget it. I’m leaving.” Another nurse who was just walking in with yet another prescription for bowel evacuation, tried to hand it to me, but I said, no. And just as I brushed by her, the women who I had been dealing with, grabbed the prescription and crinkled it up and threw it on the ground.

Ha ha! Two drama queens for the price of one. Sure I was a pain in the ass, but hey, she works with assholes all day, she should be used to them. I just continued out. Walked out of the hospital. Walked down the hill. Walked down the street. And walked to my brother’s house. Guido Obnoxious. He was out in his driveway working. He’s an artist too, but he actually (cough) makes a living at it. I was crying very heavily by then. Our family isn't really into comforting anyone. He didn’t even look up or say anything except that he had to get some signs done and he was busy. Usually when I go to his house, he has to show me his gold Volvo and I have to bow down before it, but not today. I guess his girlfriend drives it to work. Instead he was loading signs into a white mini-van. I told him what had happened. He didn’t say anything. He just started talking about covering up nail holes with white paint. He then said he had one hour before he had to get back home and I could ride along on some of his errands and he would get me to work. He also said he would take me over to this Yuppie Extraordinaire deli across the street. I WAS starving after all. I hadn’t eaten since Saturday and even though my stomach felt kind of snaky, I thought that sounded good.

My brother is very interested in being with, as he calls them, The Beautiful People. He grew up with nothing. He was even homeless at times, but now he lives the Semi-Good Life. He has a faithful girlfriend who has made him a model citizen in the community. He has a Volvo. He has all the most expensive computers and televisions money can buy. He lives in the local yuppie village where image is everything, and substance is nothing, unless its cocaine, of course. And whenever I go to his house (which isn’t often), I basically have to listen to a list of all the things he’s bought and how much they cost and how they're the best that money can buy.

Yawn. All better now....

He really likes to rub it in how successful he is. Well, whatever. Personally, I’d rather be successful emotionally (which he’s DEFINITELY not), than financially. Although hell, if we tossed in the financial part, I’d be pretty dern happy too. So we went over to this upper scale Deli. I totally gulped when I saw that a mere sandwich was like $6 and $7. I’m used to Subway specials at $2.49. And then they had all these fancy mc fancy things on them that I didn’t even know what they were, like vinagerettes made from the tears of multi-lingual eunuchs, and spinach leaves grown by one eyed virgin monks on a 2 acre plot in the South of France. Just really...coooooooool stuff. Like wow. A piece of lettuce for $7.50. I just totally wanted that. WHAT??? You want meat? I’m sorry but that’ll be another 129 euros please. Euros? Oh, that’s yuppie talk for expensive turkey that you can get for $5 less over at Subway.

So we finally settled in next to the fireplace area, where the pistachio colored wall collided with the warm, spiced pumpkin colored wall. My brother commented on it naturally since he’s an artist. And yes, the two colors together were nice. He told me I should just bring a book in sometime and read at the bistro.

heh, heh, Foodstamp Girl spotted at at 11.

I actually asked him if he thought I should put my pinkie up when I’m eating a $7 sandwich. He didn’t, of course, know that I was yanking his chain, so he carefully consider the question. Hmmm. Him: “Well, only if you’re trying to impress someone with your manners.” And its true, I tried not to belch and fart while I was sitting in the bistro, but he did say that my shirt matched the restaurant and looked attractive. I told him he says that to all the girls. He laughed and said, “Not all of them...” and winked.

Kinda creepy, huh?

He did finally get me down to my office around 12:30 and I was able to do my group with “J” about relaxation....something I’m definitely in need of after the last two days.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty