So there I was minding my own business when in came Nurse Christine with two cylinders bearing the suspicious wording, “BERRY FLAVORED”. Those two words immediately raise my “who-are-you-trying-to-fool antennae?”
My inner suspicions date back to my childhood when undergoing an upper/lower GI series. This involved drinking the dreaded liquid chalk. Believe me. The flavor and texture have not improved despite the fact that the equipment used for the testing has increased in cost by at least 10 times. This flummoxes me.
So okay…berry flavored liquid chalk. (A) I hate berry flavored things because they’re always fake, and (B) liquid chalk is not my beverage of choice. But hey, with the husband sitting across the room, barely raising his eyelids at my whining, I had little choice but to drink the stuff promising myself supper as soon as it was over with.
As luck would have it, supper arrived at the same time as the gurney prepared to transport me to the dungeon for yet another test. And of course, by the time I returned, the food was cold so I ordered soup and peanut butter toast. Dark chocolate was the real reward.
Pleased as punch that I’d made it through the chalky liquid, sleep came easily. Whoa….but what was that feeling of lead in my stomach when I woke up in the morning. The docs and nurses just grinned and suggested I drink lots of water and take lots of walks. In a gown that only half ties. Right.
Twenty-four hours later, Nurse Christine slithers into the room bearing a gallon jug of GoLightly, with a cheery little pineapple sticker on the side. Okay, the name alone was a suggestion that this was not going to be a fun night. I vaguely remember hearing the words “cholonoscopy cleansing” and seeing my husband’s sly grin. This is the man who has survived three cholonoscopys and is scheduled for his fourth.
Here were the basic problems, as I saw them: (a) I can’t drink that much liquid in four hours, and (b) I can’t drink pineapple flavored stuff. I have nothing against pineapple. I love fresh pineapple. I even like canned pineapple. But again, this was sure to be fake flavoring. I was beginning to sense a pattern.
But okay, just to be in the spirit of things, I took a big swig. All I can say is that stuff is simply wrong. Just plain old wrong. Huge. Big mistake. Six hours later I was still crossing my eyes and holding my nose. And promising myself that in a few days I will order the biggest, thickest chocolate malt I can locate. Well, that and pizza. Two things I rarely eat. But no more dilly dallying. I’m gonna eat what I want.