The First Colonoscopy

Yep. Tuesday 1/20/09. 10:15AM. Sedation will be involved. I have to bring a designated driver with me. No enemas. Now they take the "do it yourself" approach. I suppose that's better than having some guy run copious amounts of liquid up your Whoosis.
Can't really use the Star Trek intro because a man has gone here before. NO! I play for OUR team! My family doctor's probing phalanx has penetrated just enough to check Mr. Prostate (as opposed to "prostrate" which means lying prone).
Actually I had a previous colonoscopy. That was way back in 1980 or so. Seems that some super-hot home made stir fry, washed down with some home made muscadine wine and, on a bet, a quart of Milwaukee's Best Light caused the discomfort. Things like that happened at The Ghetto. This was between marriages. When my sons went to visit their mother for the weekend, I usually did not sleep between Friday afternoon and Sunday morning. The Ghetto was Jerry's house. Located across from the bible college. We frequently ended up there after the bo-ray game at The Bloody Bucket (Sue's Place on 35 South) broke up. But, I digress.
I went to my family doctor because of some discomfort and, to use a female term, spotting. This same doctor would later become my son's father-in-law. There goes that digressing again. Slap. Focus, Samantha! OK. Back on point.
There was a new diagnostic tool in town and he was itching to use it. This was a Monday. I was to report to the hospital Tuesday AM for colonic cleansing and the "procedure". Since my gut was still adversely reacting to hot sauce, Mongolian stir fry, Milwaukee's Best and tequila, it seemed like a good idea to me.
I arrived as previously scheduled and was sent to a room. The only piece of furniture in the room was some kind of potty that looked like a contraption that might have first been used at Salem. Soon thereafter, I had my first meeting with a rather large black gentleman who was minus his neck. I "assumed the position" and the fun began. The KFC that I had for lunch the previous day now seemed like a really bad idea. After an hour or so of colonics, I was pronounced "ready" for the procedure. I was led to a table in one of the emergency room "suites".
My doctor then asks my permission to allow the other doctors in his group, as well as their nurses, and a few nurses who worked at the hospital, to observe my penetration. It was then that I found out that this was the first time the diagnostic machine had ever been used at good old MJMH. How could I refuse?
I was positioned on my left side. My gown was opened. I was greased up for ease of penetration. At no time was I given anything to "dull", "sedate", or "twilight sleep" my bare ass. My only assumption is that someone did not read the instructions all the way to the end. They, like most men, found the part that shows how the thing works and focused on that part.
Now I was on my side watching a monitor as a probe began its entry into almost-virgin territory. I say "almost" because I had spent four years in the service. In addition to "short arms" inspections, they also conducted "bend over and spread 'em" inspections. After a period of many years, I was reminded of the sensation while watching an episode of Stargate SG1. In this episode, a Goa'uld symbiote is implanted into Jack or Sam. Anyway, it wriggles its ugly ass into their body. I wondered if they felt as I did. Again with the digressing.
OK. I have the Goa'uld trekking through uncharted territory up my intestinal tract and, as a man who plays for our team, as opposed to one who may shout "Armageddon" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNYl4aU0w0w I was feeling that basic male need to tighten my cheeks. (Finish reading and then you can click on the link.) It was then that I realized the identity of the nurse assisting my doctor. Friends? No. Adversaries is a better description. I umpired both church and open league women's softball. (Hell, I was single and it was a good way to pick up chicks!) She pitched for both the First Baptizin' Church and one of the better women's open league teams. She liked to argue. She came by it honest because her husband was a Mississippi politician. Anyway, I had tossed her smart ass from numerous games. Suffice to say that we did not trade Christmas cards. Now she's stroking my right cheek and telling me to relax as the probe heads for Deep Space Nine. And I hear all these doctors talking about things they are seeing on the monitor. What I am seeing is something similar to the Hubble nebulae images I would see later in life. Then I recognize some other female voices and the situation hits home. Three of my friends and softball teammates have wives who are nurses at MJMH.
In actuality, this was a profound recognition. I didn't want them to think I was a wuss so I relaxed and let the Goa'uld have its way. The entire penetration probably lasted no more than 15 to 20 minutes. I found out it was worth it when, as I was being wiped and helped to a sitting position, my nemesis leaned over and whispered "nice ass" to me!
Later, I spoke to another of the nurses that I figured had been there. She had. I asked her how many folks had watched the episode. She finally remembered (at least) 6 doctors, 8 nurses and 2 hospital administrators. I should have charged admission...or they should have paid me!