A neighbour up the lane has just returned from an early-morning colonoscopy at the hospital. After two days on a restricted diet and one full day of eating nothing at all, he's now pigging out on KFC's finger-lickin'-good fried chicken.
"What's a colonoscopy?" I hear you ask. To put it into blunt medical terms, it's when they tie a GoPro camera to a garden hose and shove it up your ass. Actually, it's my turn tomorrow, and I haven't eaten much for two days either and nothing at all today, which may explain my lightheadedness and crude language - and I haven't even started on that colon-cleasing solution yet that tastes like orange-flavoured windscreen washer fluid, after which my soul will leave my body through my ass.
My neighbour has just now sent me this final photo, and added the reassuring words, "Don't worry about the procedure; it was nothing. I didn't feel a thing and had the best snooze I've had for years." Thanks!
(I'd better run now; the windscreen washer fluid is starting to work!)
