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A Day to Remember


I've got to share a story with you. It has nothing to do with football or Auburn. It's more about a rite of passage, a milestone if you will. This past Wednesday, I had my first colonoscopy. No, I'm not 50 yet - not even close. For those at home keeping score I'm a young 42 years-old - much too young to have a garden hose inserted in my rectum.

I don't want to bore you with the details of why I had the procedure; let's just say I haven't crapped right in more than a month. I know; too much information, but it's imperative to the story.

If you've ever had one, it's an experience you'll never forget. The procedure is nothing. You go to sleep and wake up a changed man forever. It's hard to put it into any simpler terms.

It's the buildup that gets you.

The festivities got under way at 3 p.m. on Tuesday afternoon when I took four Dulcolax tablets. On the laxative box it recommends one daily. You see where this is headed. For the next two hours everything was fine - no movement downstairs. Call me Ironman.

At approximately 5 p.m. I took things to the next level. With doctor's orders in hand, I mixed 8.3 oz of Miralax "professional strength" powder into 64 oz of grape Gatorade - something I can now safely say I'll never drink again for the rest of my days.

I was instructed to drink eight ounces every 10-15 minutes until the Gatorade was gone. As I enjoyed my beverage on the couch, I read on the Miralax bottle that I'd just consumed 14 daily doses all in one sitting.

I knew this was leading up to a night to remember.

Thankfully my wife and children were away at my 10 year-olds football game. Of course, that didn't stop her from calling and texting every few minutes with fart jokes. In fact, she let all the parents at the game in on the gig and was quickly relaying to me their best lines. Now the entire school knew I was only hours away from being medically gang raped.

At 7 p.m., nearly four hours into my prep, the fireworks began. I won't get all graphic with you, but let's just say it's truly amazing what the human body can store inside your organs.

I swear I witnessed the passing of some Big League Chew I swallowed when I was nine years-old while playing Dixie Youth baseball. I'm pretty sure that was my high school girlfriend's earring that hit the bottom of the porcelain commode at around midnight - a story for another time.

Needless to say, I spent a lot of quality time with my iPad in the library over the next 10 hours. Got that mental picture?

By sunlight the pregame festivities had stopped. I weighed myself prior to the start and then again the next morning. When all was said and done, I was down nearly six pounds. I answered my own question. Yes, I'm full of shit.

My procedure at the hospital was set for 10:30 a.m. Wednesday morning. While considerably weak from the night before, I was anxious to get the show on the road. An hour before arriving, I received a phone call at home.

The lady on the other end said, "May I speak with Jason Coulter?" I acknowledged it was me and she proceeded to ask if I wanted to come in early. In mid-sentence she stopped and said, "Wait a minute. Is this Jay Coulter?" Oh boy. I sheepishly said yes and she proceeded to tell me who she was - a former classmate and mother of one my daughter's friends. This is a person I see regularly at school events.

Could this day get any worse? Damn right it could...

After arriving and stripping down completely and putting on one of those hospital gowns with the back missing, I got settled onto my gurney. First walks up a family friend who says, "I didn't know you were coming in today." To which I responded, "And I didn't know you worked here."

I was then greeted by my old friend who phoned earlier. It was like old home week at the butt doctor hospital. My wife, who I love more than life itself, comforted me by laughing hysterically at my situation.

Following the "procedure" I was wheeled to recovery where I was greeted by this smoking hot nurse, who by the way also plays on my wife's tennis team. "Well what do you know," says my wife smiling. "I didn't know we'd be seeing you."

Let me just say when I'm named ruler of the world, I'll outlaw hot nurses in the colonoscopy area.

As they chatted for what seemed like an eternity by my bed, I sat there with the urge to let out a fart that would kill everyone in that hospital. Finally, I begged for some privacy.

When I asked for a moment alone, the hot nurse looks at my wife and says, "Oh, I bet he has to poot." Let's close the curtain and give him a chance to let it out."

Talk about being stripped of all your dignity. It's hard to be cool when you are laying there with a hospital gown on and farting like Eddie Murphy in The Klumps. This was not my finest hour.

Nearly 24 hours after the start of "the process" I was at home resting comfortably. I woke up the next morning and pulled my kids out of their school and legally changed my name. Like a teenager losing his virginity, I was never going to be the same.

Getting old is a bitch.