I’m the only one I know who’s had fun during a colonoscopy.

The sole reason I signed up for it was because my brother had recently had a cancerous polyp removed from his colon, and he urged me to get checked out, too. Fine. I’ll go. Just don’t bug me anymore, OK? Big brothers can be such a pain.
I’d heard all the terrible stories and looked forward to the procedure about as much as one would look forward to a beheading. I hadn’t planned ahead of time on yukking it up with the Kaiser staff, but once I got there, I was the belle of the ball, or should I say the Countess of Camp Colon.

 
Just two days prior to the procedure, I’d received a shipment of copies of my first book: They Had Me at Meow: Tails of Love from the Homeless Cats of Buster Hollow. It’s about my thirteen years of caring for a colony of smart, funny feral cats. I brought along a copy and some business cards but left them with my partner, Steve, in the waiting room while I was whisked off to begin the epic journey of Rosie’s innards.

 
A case could be made that I was overtaken by a bout of “whistling past the graveyard,” because as soon as the nurse with the clipboard began asking me the standard medical questions, I started babbling away about the cats of Buster Hollow, about my book and the fact that I planned to use it to raise money for organizations that care for homeless cats, blah, blah, blah.

 
“And,” the nurse said as she proceeded through her list, “have you ever had diabetes, cancer, or…”

 
“No, but I sure have a great book about cats, you wanna see it? Don’t go away, I’ll be right back.” Steve was shocked to see me prance back into the waiting room, wearing the hospital gown over my clothes, and paw through my canvas bag to find the book. “See ya,” I said breezily as I looked over my shoulder and raced back to the procedure suite clutching my book.

 
“Well, that’s lovely,” the nurse said as I proudly held up the book. “Now, then, we need to finish the paperwork.”

 
“Ok, shoot,” I said, still holding up my book so the other nurses could see it and cluck approvingly.

 
“Do you have a family history of…”

 
“Oh, wait! I forgot to get my business cards,” I said and rushed back to Steve and my canvas bag.

 
“Here,” I said and handed one to her as well as to several other nurses admiring the book.

 
“Why, thank you,” I said as one by one they told me how lovely it was.

 
“OK, time to start the IV,” my nurse said. “Do you have any problems with this?”

 
“Uh, no,” I said, and turned my head. “Just make sure you get it right the first time, ha, ha.”

 
“I’ll be very careful,” she said, and after only two tries, the IV was installed and waiting for the good drugs!

 
“I forgot to mention that I’m very sensitive to medication-a little goes a LONG way with me, you know? If 50 mg. would be the normal dose, it would only take 10 mg. to make my head spin off its axis.”

 
“Sure, just tell that to the nurse who gives you the sedation.”

 
“Ok, but…”

 
“They’re ready for you now, Ms. Sorenson,” the assistant said as she came to fetch me.

 
“Oh, well, all right-let the games begin!” I said and picked up book, my business cards, and purse and followed her into the procedure room. She asked me to undress from the waist down and just leave my things on the chair behind the curtain.

 
After I’d exposed my bottom and pulled the gown around it, I sauntered over to the table and hopped on. The assistant took my blood pressure and placed the oxygen-thingie into my nose, while the nurse-with-the-good-drugs consulted with the doctor about the dosage. She then injected the Fentanyl and Versed into the IV line.

 
I don’t think I was ever totally out of it because I remember seeing something pink and mobile on the movie screen in front of me. I also have a faint memory of unclutching my hand to reveal a white business card and handing it to the doctor right before she inserted the probe.
“D’youlikecatsthishwebshitesheckitoooooooooooowt?” I heard someone say.

 
* * *

 
Rosie Sorenson is an award-wining writer whose work has appeared in the Los Angeles Times, the San Francisco Chronicle, the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review, and other publications. Her new photo essay book, They Had Me at Meow: Tails of Love from the Homeless Cats of Buster Hollow, is about her thirteen years of loving and being loved by a colony of smart, funny feral cats. To learn more and to purchase the book, please visit her website: www.theyhadmeatmeow.com.