A colonoscopy was scheduled. I hear OMG and Eww!!! Don’t turn tail and hit the delete button. Wish I could have! Learnin’ is in this tale (pun intended), and I believe I will laugh about it in a few weeks.
Green jello jiggled on my plate, and my complexion matched. Jim was gallant and allowed me to watch whatever on TV. “Whatever” was on every channel. Raymond, the bumbling husband on “Everybody Loves Raymond” was apologizing for one of his blunders at a B&B with a “shared” bathroom. Jim was listening and considering booking a B&B with a private bathroom until my procedure was over.
Twilight stroked the pine needles of the tall, stately, evergreen trees on the day of the special event. A woodsy patch of oak, dogwood and hickory trees shadow a tiny stream where deer leave tracks, and secretly disappear only to be glimpsed rarely. Jim was watching. Trumpets blared in the form of my voice, and he remembered his Princely duties. He drove along the lanes taking me like Marie Antoinette to the guillotine with my bed-head hair piled atop my head in a copycat hairdo. Chanel cosmetics were not wasted on this appearance. The waiting room was empty with no one to impress, and no reporters from the local newspaper or Entertainment Tonight jumped the fence for photos, so no need even for Maybelline.
The best part was the sleep. The worst part was a little extra bonus – Barium! Here’s the learnin’! Barium is not cosmetic surgery erasing cellulite and old age spots! When you hear this word uttered even when offered as an extra freebie with 100,000 skymiles, matching luggage and a pre-paid platinum credit card, say “NO.” Let me backtrack. Grab the credit card since you may need it. Forget your clothes and shoes even if you wore Manola Blahnik’s best. Run with the backdoor of your gown open despite your derriere bearing no resemblance to Angelina Jolie’s.
Don’t copy my example. I did the capital “B”. According to the hospital experts my innards are as curvy as a Miami senorita. According to me, they were using tubes for a macho, eighteen-wheeler truck driver instead of my special, designer, diva equipment. I was wheeled deep into the bowels of the hospital, and a cute blonde with strawberry streaks in her hair told me to “breathe” and “don’t breathe” until I said, “Honey, don’t worry. I haven’t breathed since I entered the room.”
Home! My king-size, extra plush mattress consoled me as I lounged away my misery and drifted to sleep.
Awakening from my slumber, I beheld through the window – Sweet Mr. Lee! Red velvety flowers, a gift for me was in his hands.
Remaining inside, hiding my ugly hair, I waited for the men. Jim brought Sweet Mr. Lee’s beautiful bouquet to me. Two wonderful men in my life! I was a good girl at the hospital.
Now I could cry …
Thanks to the wonderful, caring hospital staff!! You were so kind to me every step of the way.
Don’t forget to click on the France storytelling & pictures page. Please share this link with friends. Thank you for your wonderful support!!