Yesterday I had to go to hospital to have a colonoscopy. Don’t worry dear Acowlytes – all is well, it was just a precautionary check-up prompted by the only inheritance I received from my parents – my genes.

Of course, this kind of experience is by its very nature humourous, involving as it does rectal passages, cameras and therefore (quite obviously, if you have been following recent Cow reports) the possibility of ghost photography. Mind you, I was pretty sure there weren’t going to be any ghosts up there. The stuff they made me drink the day before the procedure is surely an essential part of the the Anal Ghost Exorcist’s tool kit – after I swilled down 3 litres of the goddamn stuff there wasn’t much in my bowel that didn’t rapidly go towards the light. It was called ‘ColonLYTELY’ (catchy, huh?) and when I purchased it the pharmacist put two packs on the counter:

Pharmacist: Which one do you want? The lemon flavour, or the original flavour? They’re both disgusting.

Evidently there isn’t much competition in the market for bowel sluicing preparations.

Me: Shouldn’t that be ‘Great!’ original flavour?

I imagine the ad in Pharmacist’s Insider is something like this:


In the event, the outcome of the exam was as good as one could hope for. Two thumbs up! (Hmmm. Maybe not the most appropriate expression…) The finding of the doctor was that:

Excellent views were obtained through to the caecum.

It’s the sort of verdict that you might expect to find on a Edwardian postcard from the Alps. Excellent views!



*It actually wasn’t too bad – I’ve consumed more disgusting things voluntarily. The worst part was the sheer amount of the stuff you have to get down. I don’t think I’ve ever drunk that much of anything in the space of four hours before.