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It’s the time of year when people focus even more than usual on food. Grocery stores are stocked with holiday must-haves. Time to bake and shop and simmer. Yet the week before Thanksgiving I was stewing over what I was going to drink with a bottle of Mirilax to get me through a follow-up colonoscopy. Timing is everything.  So with the aisles stuffed with  Thanksgiving necessities, I wandered through the store looking at coconut water and naturally sweetened Vitamin Water and Steaz and Metromint. I had water on the brain. I was thinking about quaffing and quenching even though I knew damned well thirst wouldn’t be involved.  I did three preps last year within 6 weeks, courtesy of a malignant polyp that cost me several inches of my colon, so I have plenty of experience with the ups and downs and rebounds of my gastrointestinal tract. Here’s what I wrote in Richmond Magazine earlier this year about that much fun.

To jazz up what doesn’t sit well with my stomach, this time I thought I’d try  to suck down the prep with less sugary flavored waters from Brazil and Indonesia and Thailand. As much as I like to eat, my gut isn’t a fan of drinking a lot of anything. I’m not a coffee drinker, not a beer drinker, not even a soda drinker anymore (though in a bid to make myself happy during the liquid diet portion of the proceedings I did take a few swigs of Dr. Pepper to see if that transported me back to happy land days of yore). I don’t mean to make too much of what’s one day and night of unpleasantness since I was  lucky to have the opportunity, certainly. And given that too many of my friends are facing radiation and/or chemo after breast cancer surgery, what’s a day of intestinal fortitude anyway? I couldn’t help but hum She’s Got the Whole World in her Bowels except that the coconut water never made it much past my esophagus.  And the chocolate mint-flavored water is a mistake as well. But you knew that already.

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Is my favorite birthday joke and so appropriate this year on so many levels. It was an all-stool birthday this year. First I practiced the local love that I preach on our Real Richmond food tours and post-tour one pre-birthday Saturday went to one of my favorite stores, La Difference, for no good reason other than I was there and it was there, too. Once inside I realized I needed twelve different pieces of furniture. I settled on two bamboo bar stools to coolify our kitchen until I do more that needs doing.

Mine is darker….

Things took a turn when I ruptured a disc in my back and whatever coolness factor the above stool conveyed upon me and my home evaporated. I am now at the point where I can get into serious trouble losing focus while I put my pants on. This is the stool I’m on now:

Let’s pretend it’s retro….

And then there was the phone call from the doc on my birthday telling me he wanted me to do another colonoscopy pronto. I won’t go all Katie Couric on you, so I’ll spare you the photo. But I did get my first tattoo.

 

It certainly is a mistake for a food tour person to schedule a routine colonoscopy during Restaurant Week. What a waste, so to speak.

I will be focused on food prior to and immediately after the event, but not necessarily in ways that lend themselves to blogging. I do recall that when I drove my husband home from his procedure a year or so ago, he was understandably damned hungry and thirsty as he hadn’t eaten anything much for 24 hours. He seemed much more with-it than I had expected, but still knowing he was drowsy and just a tad loopy, the idea of a drive-in food find seemed just right until I got him home. Krispy Kreme was within sight and though we had sworn off such stuff for a year by that point, I happily drove up and ordered a half-dozen (god I hope it was only a half dozen) glazed and chocolate iced donuts and some chocolate milk for him. Not at all in his usual repertoire, but what the hey. He ate one or two on the way home and I likely accompanied him in that endeavor. Once home he went promptly to bed until morning. I lounged in the vicinity of the half-full donut box for the rest of the evening, indulging now and again–just a sliver–as my famously obese grandmother used to say and not mean. (We grandchildren were mean when we would bring her a sliver of pie or cake, knowing full well she wanted much more–and would get it one way or the other.)

Hypothetically eating, of course….

The next morning, my dear husband had no recollection of the donut trip and taste, so unable to do the math, he never knew just how many donuts I ate that night. Not sure where my amnesia came from, but it was as strong a case as his. Figuring that colonoscopies ought to be rare occasions for us, we figured we’d use the every ten year event to do a food blow-out (remember the SNL ad for Colon Blow?!), pardon the phrase and eat whatever the hell we want right after. Certainly not inclined to do that just before. It’s just a tad weird that I’m planning my post-procedure food fest already and since I don’t make anything easy for my husband, I’m already thinking about more glamorous donuts than Krispy Kremes…. I suppose he can do whatever he wants since it’s unlikely I’m going to remember a damned thing. And of course, it’s just the branding any food company would hope for: just the thing for post-invasive medical procedure!

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