Sunday night’s Kiki & Herb Christmas show was, as always, a tremendous spiritual and emotional cartharsis. I cheered and hollered, I laughed, and I shared the experience with many old pals, reinforcing my recent vow to ease out of my year-plus period of hermitage.
The evening was not just a catharsis of the soul, however. Before, during, and after the show I suffered through a process of crampy, gooey, physical cleansing before the following day’s appointment to have a tube-with-a-camera sent up my butt for a look at my innards. While maintaining a brave and cheerful face all night, I secretly cursed the state of modern medical science for its failure to think of a better way to get me ready for my close-up.
After a rough night’s sleep and a few more hours by the toilet the next morning, I was clean as a whistle and off to St. Vincent’s for my intimate encounter in the endoscopy unit. As usual, I charmed the nurses with my bon mots and good cheer, having learned long ago that in both medical procedures and anal sex, the more relaxed you are the better things will go. In the end (every pun intended), nothing looked out of whack in my colon. Although I was awfully glad to discover that I was not riddled with cancer or anything, I’m still frustrated about the ongoing trouble that’s been dogging me for months now.
So far, my crack team of medical experts has ruled out ulcers, polyps, and pregancy (although the ultrasound did turn up a little lesion on my liver that is apparently not cause for the kind of concern that a word like “lesion” would suggest). Maybe it’s a reaction to some of my medicines or maybe I’ve developed a food allergy or something, but there doesn’t seem to be much else to do about it right now except tough things out and looking out for suspicious dietary culprits.
On the positive side of all this, months of gastric distress have done wonders for my figure! I can fit into the snappier items in my wardrobe again, which will save me a costly winter shopping spree to accomodate what was quickly becoming a very fat chassis.
As they say on the radio, “First time (caller/post-er), long time (listener/reader)”. Was relieved to see a new post – after so long! No ‘Genuine Irish Guilt’ intended. Though you DO owe untended teeming millions a regular dose of Sparky-via-the-web.
I’ll be checking in for more updates, so keep all of us posted.
Merry Christmas, Happy New Year. Very belated Congratulations on your marriage – if my experience of being married is any guide, competent cookery can wreak havoc on post-twenties metabolisms and waistlines. (Being a sedentary NYPD office cop can work wonders for your general health as well.) (Marrying an Italian didn’t hurt either.)
In conclusion, all I want (that’s left, anyway) for Christmas is for you to stay strong through all the medical hoo-hah, for you, Rooster (I can call him that, right?, and your families to be healthy, and for both of your continued happiness.
PS – when doing your investigation on food/dietary troublemakers, don’t overlook the damage that can be done by Mike’s Papaya downtown – two chili dogs and a papaya drink Monday at lunchtime, and I was nearly done for until about 4:30.
Hurra!!!Sparky!
So happy to read you are ok.
Much love to you and all closest to you.
Joao
The liver lesion is a result of all that uncontrollable alcohol binge drinking. You really should lay off the sauce for at least one day in the week.
I’m glad you don’t have cancer, and I thought the squeamish looks during the show were a result of some of the jokes.
Yay, our lil’ Sparky’s hindquarters are A-okay!
You know, *I* could have told you your heiner was just fiiiine. xoxo
Glad the exam went well! I hope that whatever is bothering yer tummy is discovered soon!
Happy holidays to you and Rooster!