{"id":1862,"date":"2025-06-08T19:23:55","date_gmt":"2025-06-08T19:23:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.craigsilliphant.com\/?p=1862"},"modified":"2025-06-10T16:25:30","modified_gmt":"2025-06-10T16:25:30","slug":"in-through-the-outdoor-my-magical-medical-butt-adventure-comedy","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.craigsilliphant.com\/index.php\/2025\/06\/08\/in-through-the-outdoor-my-magical-medical-butt-adventure-comedy\/","title":{"rendered":"In Through the Outdoor \u2013 My Magical, Medical Butt Adventure (Comedy)"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

First, a warning: this piece falls squarely in the realm of TMI. It\u2019s a story about one man and his colonoscopy. I mean, it\u2019s medical, so we could choose to be mature about it. However, I most certainly won\u2019t be. So, if for some weird reason you don\u2019t want to hear about my butt, then this is your off-ramp. Go look at pictures of kittens or something. But if you\u2019re in for a laugh at my expense, then climb aboard. There\u2019s room for everyone in this canoe of discomfort.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

At a certain age in Saskatchewan, you get mailed a FIT test. Nope, not the FIT test you do for an N95 mask. This one stands for Fecal Immunochemical Test<\/em> and it\u2019s a fancy way of saying, “Hey, we mailed you a stick. Please wipe it with poop and mail it back so we can check for anything weird.” So, you don\u2019t want to mix up this<\/em> FIT test with the one that involves pressing things on your mouth and nose. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I sent the test in and then didn\u2019t think about it again. Until I got a call from the Screening Program for Colorectal Cancer to tell me there were concerns with my results. The nurse said I had won some terrible, reverse lottery and my prize was a colonoscopy. If you aren\u2019t aware of how that works, a doctor takes a camera and sticks it up your bum, pushing it all the way up into your guts. While I salute the noble work they do, I question their choice to specialize in the art of butt spelunking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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(Not a depiction of me or my specific colon).<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

After talking with a few people about their own adventures in colonoscopy, they assured me that the procedure itself was no big deal. It was the prep that was the real pain in the arse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You start on a low residue diet, which sounds like something Gwyneth Paltrow invented. But really it just means: eat beige. You\u2019re getting your colon ready for a look-see, so you can\u2019t eat a bunch of grains, fruits with seeds, or thick, hard to digest steaks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The worst part of the process came the night before. They sent me to Shoppers Drug Mart to buy a product called Peglyte, which is some kind of super laxative that clears out everything: food, ghosts, whatever\u2019s haunting your insides.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I assumed it would be a reasonably-sized container, like the Restoralax laxative bottle. No. It was the size of a jerry can you\u2019d strap to an army jeep.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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(In case soldiers get bunged up).<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Add water, and boom: you\u2019ve got four litres of digestive napalm. You\u2019re supposed to drink two litres of it the night before. Then the other two litres first thing in the morning, the day of the procedure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There were two different flavours: \u2018fruit-flavoured\u2019 and one simply called, \u201cflavoured.\u201d I didn\u2019t know what that generic description could possibly mean, and I will admit I was curious, but I decided to go with the devil I knew — fruit. I knew it wouldn\u2019t taste like fruit. If I was lucky, maybe it would taste like that fake grape Dimetapp flavour that made cold medicine a weird treat as a kid. If I was unlucky, the fake banana flavour.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Turns out it was neither. And I question the fruit label entirely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I took a sip and registered notes of something fruit-adjacent, like an old skittle found under a car seat, covered in dog hair. It had a seemingly permanent aftertaste of dirty pennies. However, while it was gross, I initially thought it could have been worse. I didn\u2019t get why everyone was whining so hard about it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Once I started chugging, I understood. That fruit flavour got nastier quickly. It wasn\u2019t the yucky taste that was the real issue. It was the sheer volume of yucky taste. Drinking two litres of anything can be challenging. But by the second pint of this concoction, I was staring into the abyss. There was a lot of grimacing and groaning. The directions said I was supposed to drink it in an hour. It took me an hour and 47 minutes to choke it down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was only two pints in when I felt an unholy rumble in my stomach. The kind thing you don\u2019t want in a romantic situation or during a track meet. The next thing I knew, I was in the bathroom, wishing I owned tearaway pants. And here\u2019s where I\u2019ll get gross for a moment: this wasn\u2019t the calm chocolate river from the classic 1987 Dairy Queen<\/em> commercial.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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