|
Not mine but funny just the same.
I was having intestinal problems a few years back. So, they decided that I needed an upper and lower GI. I'll spare you the details about the laxatives and stuff, but I will tell you that laxatives always give me gas. Even in the aftermath.
Well, I went in for my upper GI on a Monday and my lower GI a little later in the week. The upper was disgusting because the stuff they make you drink is like drinking liquid death. It tasted like road kill smells. With lemon. I was told that the lower GI would be easier because I wouldn't have to drink a ton of stuff.
So, I went to my lower GI quite happy and ready to roll.
They got me prepped and put me on the table and then proceeded to tell me that the stuff I drank a few days before, the chalky lemon skunk juice, would basically be shot into my anus so that they could see stuff in there a little better.
Uhm ... okay.
Now, this is where I remind you that I had gas. I had the kind of gas that stands up and makes a mockery of GasX and Beano. I had the kind of gas that can evacuate an elevator and make a 400lb woman in a Wal Mart scooter take the stairs two at a time while shouting the Hail Mary and talking in tongues. I had the kind of gas that can make a baby cry twenty feet across the room, wilt flowers, induce vomiting, and cause small creatures to scamper away. And the sound could make a million buzzards take flight while pooping themselves in fear.
I was told that I would feel "pressure". I was told that it would be like an enema and I should hold it ... hold it ... hold it ... so the pictures could be taken.
Folks, for at least fifteen minutes I could feel air swelling out my intestines like overcooked sausages. I tried to burp. I tried to hold my breath so I could at least drift into unconsciousness and not feel the pain. And I watched my stomach begin to look like a hot air balloon inflating. It was excruciating. The harder I tried not to pass gas ... the more I needed to.
And then ... I farted.
Chalky stuff was everywhere, no poop however.
It looked like a chalk line that had been blown with a leaf blower. It was horrifying. And it was the fart that wouldn't quit. I didn't know what to do so I started breathing really deep thinking I could sniff away any smell before it got to anyone else ... and it just kept going and going and going. It was the kind of flatulence that has octaves and makes you believe that your ass trumpet has musical skill to rival the Symphony Orchestra.
And then it ended.
And you could have heard a pin drop.
And I'm lying on my side complete bare butted with my face burning up from all the blood rushing to it ...
And the doctor goes, "My word. I almost tasted that one."
I never rescheduled the test.
|