OK, the verdict is in and it wasn't close: the post-colonoscopy buzz is definitely not worth the pre-colonoscopy bazinga. I opt for mild anxiety over bowels on fire.
It made me ponder how readily alcoholics will justify pain to get to some pleasure. Taken objectively the amount of damage we did to ourselves so that we could get this pleasure - or at least chase the illusion of the pleasure - made absolutely no sense. Yet, there we went again. I always thought I was like a guy who, to take the chill off a cool day, would soak himself in gasoline and then light a match. All I could remember was that instant of gratifying warmth. There was a strange blank spot when it came to the whole being-burnt-to-a-crisp aspect.
I do have a nice, clean colon tonight. Ever seen a picture of the inside of your colon? I'm constantly amazed at the beauty of the human organism.
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