If you don't laugh, there's something wrong...

My mom sent me this HILARIOUS bit and I just about choked on my Oodles of Noodles. I think my coworkers might have been wondering what the heck I was doing as I was laughing violently in my office as I read this.

This is a pretty accurate description of what my colonoscopy was like (I had one done in 2005). I'll share some more details of my colonoscopy after the wonderful words from Dave Barry...

This is from newshound Dave Barry's colonoscopy journal:

I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis . Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, quote, 'HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BEHIND!'

I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called 'MoviPrep,' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America's enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor. Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons.) Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, 'a loose watery bowel movement may result.' This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, 'What if I spurt on Andy?' How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.

Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was 'Dancing Queen' by ABBA I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, 'Dancing Queen' has to be the least appropriate.

'You want me to turn it up?' said Andy, from somewhere behind me. 'Ha ha,' I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.

I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, ABBA was yelling 'Dancing Queen, Feel the beat of the tambourine,' and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that It was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.

ABOUT THE WRITER: Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for the Miami Herald.

TINGLE'S TAKE: First of all, I had to prep with a product called "GoLitely" which should really be called "GoViolently" because there was nothing "lite" about what happened when I drank the stuff. It took a few hours for things to really get "moving" for me, so I was lulled into thinking, "This isn't too bad..."

But when it started, it was just as Dave Barry describes. I actually considered setting up a little cot in the bathroom.

I also slept through the whole thing. Thank goodness. They didn't play music for me, though.

When I woke up in the "waking up" room, they gave me some crackers and ginger ale. I had LOTS of gas - very airy, noisy gas. It had to come out, I was in no state to try and "hold it" in. I apologized to the nurse, and then she told me that it was OK, that she couldn't let me leave until she heard me pass gas. Could you imagine that job? Being the nurse who gives you crackers and ginger ale and then waits around until you fart? I hope she either has a great sense of humor or makes good money.

Also, I didn't have perfect intestines like Dave Barry. When the doctor talked to me, he explained that I had "diverticula throughout" which means that I have little pockets throughout my intestines where stuff can get trapped making me susceptible to infection or diverticulitis. He urged me to avoid foods which give me "issues" (which for me tend to be raw veggies and fruits, particularly lettuce and any kind of "skins").

And, I had a polyp. Which I guess is pretty common, but also means I'm supposed to get a colonoscopy once every 5 years or something. They removed the polyp while they were in there. When he told me I had a polyp, he showed me a nice color portrait of the polyp before it was removed. I asked if I could have a copy of the picture - he looked at me funny, and I said, "I'm not leaving here until I get a picture of my polyp!" (Keep in mind that I was still a bit loopy...)

So, he had the nurse make a copy of the picture for me, and I was sent away happy. I went home and slept the day away to get rid of the general anesthesia hangover. A few days later, the polyp biopsy came back and it was benign.

I always thought I'd never have a colonoscopy or a urinary catheter before I was 50, but the cruel universe had different plans because now I've had both. Must be downhill from here!

And now, my friends, I present to you in full vivd technicolor, the debut of my polyp. Yes, this is the actual photo of my polyp, removed from my innards in October 2005, and hereby dubbed by me: Shiny Happy Polyp.