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Today was the day, and I just spent the last 24 hours prepping my husband for his close up.

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Add a little chicken broth and a whole lotta Gatorade and you’re looking at everything my husband has had to eat for a day and a half. To say he was cranky this morning was a gross understatement.

New hospital policy had me sitting outside in my car during the procedure as I was no longer allowed in the waiting room. He wasn’t supposed to drive after the colonoscopy, so I was his taxi. The paperwork made it quite clear what’s forbidden and while I can understand not driving or operating heavy machinery after the relax and unpucker your butt medication, it also said you can’t cook.

Are they afraid your addled brain will add too much garlic to the Scampi…. or over sear the pot roast? Unfortunate, but hardly deserving of a medical warning.

All went well and nothing that shouldn’t have been there was found. As we were walking out of the hospital the husband gave me a blow by blow description I could have done without, but he watched the whole thing on some kind of video screen and was eager to share.

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Good thing there was a wall of Mark Chagall chicken prints for me to focus on instead.

😊

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