My homeboy Brad said that to me just the other day, referencing his need for comfort food to get him through a difficult moment. That phrase cracked me up and made me think about my own comfort foods when faced with a daunting day. Seriously, depending on the day that comfort food could be anything: lasagna, homemade mixed greens salad with homemade olive oil/vinaigrette dressing, French toast, and pepperoni pizza to name a few. Today my wish is to partake in one of the amazing Angus burger meals at the sandwich shop around the corner from my place… not only are they fantastic and homemade, the meal is $5.25, which fits budget and taste buds. Problem is my stomach is gurgling at me and acting all kinds of confused because it was forced to succumb to a liquid diet all day yesterday. On top of only drinking water and sprite all day yesterday, I had to take some pipe-cleaning powder that once mixed with water and chilled in the fridge tasted like water infused with just the processed lemon powder flavor of Nestea mix with a lemony chalk finish. I had to drink 32 oz of that stuff over an hour and then set my alarm for 3:30 a.m. and drink another 32 oz over an hour. Needless to say, I couldn’t wait to get through the indignity that I anticipated a colonoscopy to be, shoot, initially it felt embarrassing to even say that word but let me tell you the medical field is all about separating the patient from the procedure and for that I’m grateful. I had anxiety this morning and when my doctor first recommended this procedure, in typical Cija fashion, I sat there and analyzed what I would look like on a table knocked out with my cheeks exposed to a stranger who was going to ‘do me one better’ and get to see more than I ever have which reminds me, we ladies get the bum end of the deal, GYN, nuff said! So while I spent last night and this morning internally freaking out, turns out once I was rolled into the ‘room’ and propped in the appropriate position, I woke up to a light tug and a discreet blanketing of the rear. I marveled at how only minutes ago I was speaking with the technician who of course had to remind me that plenty more than a minute had passed. Apparently the Propofol worked…yes yes the drug that took Michael Jackson from us too soon. Let me go back before the procedure and tell you how the nurse was ensuring I understood what I was going to undergo, she then-with all seriousness-said the anesthesiologist will be using Propofol on you today. Insert me blinking my eyes with trepidation, in all of the anxiety-ridden hours leading to this moment, never once did the word Propofol come to mind. Now I’m thrust into this awkward moment with the nurse who sees my questioning eyes and says, “Yes, the Michael Jackson drug,” which broke the tension and made me respond, “No one will leave me unattended will they?” She was like, “Of course not!” which made us both guffaw and broke the tension.
Back to post-procedure and link-back to “I need some guacamole!”; the nurse warned me not to eat the cheeseburger I was fiending for today since my stomach is, I mean was (I had some scrambled eggs and bacon this morning) empty. So what comfort food do I want right now since I can’t go full-out like I promise to do next week for Thanksgiving? I guess I gotta settle for a turkey club which will be mellow enough to not enrage my stomach’s sensibilities…now if only that delivery guy would hurry up!
Note: Health-wise I’m all good
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