Beginning on Thursday afternoon of last week, I embarked on a journey. It was a journey on which I have never been, and a journey I will never forget. The journey? An upper GI endoscopy and a flex sigmoidoscopy. That’s right. A lighted, camera-bearing tube down the throat and another up the can.
The procedures themselves only lasted for about 25 minutes, and I was forunately in a twilight sleep for both. I remember being wheeled in and told to turn onto my side because I’d be getting sleepy. The next thing I know, I’m talking to my wife in the recovery room.
The rough part of the whole thing was the laxative for Thursday, and the two, self-administered enemas on Friday morning. I won’t go into any further detail, but I would advise neither.