After years of disputing my husband’s claims that Red Vines were medicinal,
I guess my urging him to actually take care of himself for real finally sank in.
This last year, he had orthotics made to correct his overpronation, he went to the dermatologist for a full skin check, and then he shocked me by telling me a colonoscopy was up next.
I just sat blinking at him when he told me, trying to keep my face supportive looking, while I thought about how it was going to be with a husband experiencing low blood sugar and frequent diarrhea in a house with three teenage daughters and only one bathroom in it.
This is the man whom we reminisce about when we speak of our family vacations by citing where we were when his blood sugar crashed.
“Santa Barbara…the boutique!….Oh, remember San Francisco when he crashed out on that parking lot attendant?!”
I could not imagine how he’d handle an entire day on broth and juice.
All I knew was that I was dreading it.
When he started the prep on Thursday at 10am, the girls and I shot knowing glances at each other.
He had been talking about it for days, and kept reading the pamphlet out loud from the kitchen.
I knew what he was doing.
I know how he is with a cold.
He wanted me to clear my schedule and, for two days, treat him like he was on hospice care.
We went to the store together for jello, juices and broth.
He went home, ate one jello, sarcastically declared himself “so stuffed,” and then made some comment about needing to go put on his sweat pants.
I thought, “OK. At least he’s being funny. We’ll see how he is by later tonight when I’m having to hide the contents of the pantry in a bear box,” but there were only a few frantic bangs on the bathroom door that night, though.
I was pleasantly surprised by that.
I DID look over at one point to see him staring longingly at his phone, only to discover there was a giant picture of a sub sandwich on it.
I have been with this man for almost 23 years now, and he has never once looked at me like that.
By evening time, he was asking me if I thought there was any chance that they’d release him with a coupon for a Western Bacon Cheeseburger, and I knew he was starting to crack.
No one tells you about colonoscopy prep day when you say, “I do,” but I did have to wonder if it was the whole “for worse” part they were talking about.
The day of the colonoscopy came, and, refusing to stare at pictures of sandwiches on his phone for more hours than he had to, he had scheduled the appointment on the far side of the next town at 7am.
The anxiety over having to wake up early meant I had woken up at 4:30, unable to go back to sleep, so the two of us were a real Dream Date on the way to the hospital:
Him with his stomach making ungodly sounds as he named off foods like Bubba from Forest Gump, and me with the warm personality of a grizzly bear.
We shuffled up to the counter once we arrived.
It was still dark outside.
We were the first ones there.
We went to the desk to check in.
Only, this is when the receptionist squinted at the computer screen after taking his name, and haltingly told us that it looked like his appointment had been cancelled for some reason.
Friends, no one wants to hear their colonoscopy – the only reason they had eaten only 5 jellos and some chicken broth, were in the bathroom all night long, and woke up when it was still dark out was mysteriously CANCELLED.
The look we gave each other…
The way we slowly turned our heads…
After several minutes of being asked to sit and wait while the receptionist went to go check on some things, and us in complete disbelief, she came back to her seat and called down the hall to a manager, and asked if she would come take a look at the computer, and try to help with it.
A woman approached, and all I could focus on was the fact that Justin had then suddenly thrown his foot over the top of mine under the check-in desk, and was now rapidly stomping on it.
Realizing this was the International Spouse Signal for “LOOK AT THIS,”
I looked up from trying to figure out why he was spazzing out, to seeing exactly why he did:
The manager who had been called over to “take a look” was so extremely cross-eyed that I felt like we were now in a SNL skit.
The minutes ticked by as we tried not to show any facial expressions or stare.
Our bodies pressed back against our chairs as if we were under G-forces.
His foot stayed on top of mine like they were holding hands.
For what literally felt like an entire hour, our only view was this poor woman up-close, over the top of the computer screen, bugging out her pupils that were quite nearly touching each other in the center, trying to see his chart and make the schedule issue make sense.
But, wonkey eyes be darned, that lady DID IT.
She fixed it all. His stomach growled. I tried to avoid going towards the light as she walked away holding some charts, and we tried to resume normal breathing and not make a bigger scene.
That was just the check-in.
It’s hard to know what the craziest part was. The prep, the check-in, or sitting pressed knee-to-knee with him in a very tight space as he attempted to put on a pair of grippy socks while wearing a too-small gown and no underwear.
Bless.
I didn’t think through what that whole “self-care” thing I was pushing him towards very thoroughly.
So, to all the starry-eyed young kids out there, just now falling in love, just know that the whole “as long as you both shall live” part stops being as romantic-sounding as you near 50,
and starts meaning things like supporting them through colonoscopy prep.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
