Why is Amazon Prime Not a 2-Day Guarantee anymore?

Scene: Tuesday, 2pm

Friend (lives 45min from me): My two day Prime shipping means things arrive Friday? HOW is that two days? What number system are we using there?

Me: I think you have to place your order before a certain amt of time, like noon.. but I am certain it used to be much later.

Friend: Well, I can see that, except it says "for delivery on Friday, place order in the next 25 hours" How does THAT make sense? It implies fluid cut off times.

Me:  Idk. It makes me mad.

This conversation reminded me that I had an order to place that was still sitting in my cart. I added a pair of lefty scissors for my little Southpaw to the order, and then placed it. Lo and behold, same problem. What is going on? I started a chat with an Amazon representative and other than a moment when he totally OWNED me by explaining 2-day shipping does not mean 2-day delivery (Yeah Brandon, I know you did a little victory dance at your desk) and a hilarious moment when he called me "a great costumer" (the only person I costume is my kid at Halloween) it wasn't at all enlightening. 

Can someone else interpret this interaction for me? Why is Amazon's handling/fulfillment taking longer than it used to? How will we know when something is a 2-day Prime or 3-5-day Prime item? Does this lessen the value of Prime? With online shopping becoming more and more popular and Amazon's presence growing to Jack and the Beanstalk Giant proportions, can we expect Prime to mean "3-5 days" in the future? 

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You are now connected to Brandon from Amazon.com

Me:I placed an order at 2:20pm today, Tuesday, for three items sold by Amazon, all of which are eligible for Amazon Prime. I chose the 2-day shipping option with Amazon Prime. Why are these items scheduled to arrive on Friday, three days later?

Brandon:Hello, my name is Brandon.

Hello Julia, before I look into your account, I would need to verify that you're the account holder. Can you please provide me the name on your account, your e-mail address, and your billing address?

Me:Julia [information]

Brandon:thanks, and the order number?

Me:Order# [number]

Brandon:appreciate it, just a minute to check the order

Alright Julia, I can see here that the order is okay, sometimes an order may take some hours extra to be ready for us to ship it. This is one of those cases.

But for sure it'll arrive on Friday

Me:Why would it take an entire extra day (as this should be arriving Thursday with two-day shipping) to put together two workbooks and a pair of scissors?

Brandon:Well Julia, as you said is two day shipping, not two day delivery. Shipping is the process and duration that an order is in transit onnce it has been handed out to a carrier, meaning that this part of process doesn't include the time that an order may take to be prepared before it ships (Fulfillmnt). This doesn't mean that we can't deliver an order two days later (we do that most of the times), however due to handling and other particular situations, sometimes the package may take more than expected to be ready for shipping.

once*, sorry

Me:I guess I just don't understand why Amazon was always able to manage 2-day Delivery for all of the years I've had Prime, but suddenly in the last few months to year I can't count on that.

I realize that I am embodying the whiny "first-world-problems" procrastinator customer.

And this particular order really doesn't need to be here on Thursday, or even within the next week, although my son would love it as soon as possible.

I just wanted to talk to someone who could explain why there has been a shift in the Prime guarantee. Often I get my things in two days, but it's not a guarantee anymore (Amazon-sold items, I mean).

Brandon:I understand your point, I really do. And all we want is to give you the best service we can, if in the past month you've been having problems, I apologize for that, I can promise you that I will report that and we will work in order to fix it. You've been a great costumer and we really appreciate that.

Me:There aren't any specific circumstances you can fix, really, but thank you for the offer to report them. I was spurred to ask this question by another friend who also has Prime and also has been seeing slower ship times, so I don't think it's just me. It is disappointing because sometimes I will delete an order from my cart because I realize that I cannot get it in time for whatever event I needed it for, and I have to go with an inferior product from my local Walmart (the only store with any kind of selection near me). So I suppose if there is anything to report as a problem, perhaps just general customer dissatisfaction regarding ship times.

Thank you for your assistance today.

Brandon:It was my pleasure Julia, is there anything else I can offer my help today?

Me:No, I do not believe so.

Brandon:Thank you so much for giving me a chance to help you today and talk to you, Julia. I hope you have a great day, and thank you for being part of the Amazon Family.

First Family Camping Trip

Note: Click on pictures if you'd like to see them larger.

Everybody in the semi-rural Midwest goes camping at some point. Some go more than others. It's a rite of passage, really, if you live anywhere outside of major cities. Over the last twelve years, Julie and I kept saying that we wanted to go camping, but we clearly didn't want to go badly enough to make it happen. Then our little man came along, and ain't nobody wants to go camping with a 2yr old. Now that he's nearly four, however, it seemed like the appropriate time to introduce him to this national pasttime.

   

We began with books, subtly mentioning the topic, and discussing how FUN it was to sleep in a tent and cook over a campfire. We started telling our friends we were going to do it, and looking at local campgrounds. Then for Mothers' Day Julie and I gave each other expensive camping stuff - a fancy tent and a double sleeping bag. Now we'd guilted ourselves into HAVING to do it. If we chickened out, everyone would know. So we picked a date - Memorial Day Weekend - and started picking up supplies. Suddenly, the forecast was predicting rain. What!? Everyone knows it can't rain over three day weekends! After a lot of wishy-washy beating around the bush, we sadly planned to go to the Discovery Depot Children's Museum in Galesburg instead.  Saturday evening it rained nearby and when the wind picked up and the skies got dark we patted ourselves on the back for making such a responsible decision.

Sunday dawned with bright sunshine and a text message from my friend: "Going to camp? No rain in the forecast today or tomorrow."  Crap.  No, we'd made our choice. I responded, "We're going to Galesburg today and camping in the yard this evening."  We were going to "camp," just not off our property.  Best of both worlds! Then Julie called the campgrounds. Apparently it was going to be $60 to tent-camp, and there weren't many spots open. She told me to make the decision, so I said that we'd stick to our much cheaper Galesburg plan.  Just a few minutes later, she told me that she was overruling me and we were going camping. WELL, OKAY THEN.  We hurried to get everything together, eat lunch, and get out there. We still didn't make it until 2:30pm, an hour after we'd planned to be there.

Pretending we're not terrified

Boy this place was busy. Every spot was taken, and even spots I hadn't realized were spots were taken. I'd never been out there during a busy weekend before, and had no idea it could even be that full. It did not look like fun, it looked like a family-friendly Woodstock. Jasper was missing his nap, it was hot and muggy, our car was packed full, and we didn't even know if we'd have a spot to camp. We pulled into the host camper spot, and Julie knocked on the door. And waited. And knocked. And waited. Finally she pulled out her phone and called them. It turns out that the host campers were busy with a golf cart parade and we needed to wait patiently for them to return. No. Lie.

My golf cart is more festive than your golf cart

They finally came back and asked us if we wanted electricity or not. We said, "Sure" (gotta plug those phones in, amirite?) and they took us (we followed their fancy golf cart) to the sunniest spot in the park. It was completely out in the open, no trees at all, surrounded by campers, and looked to be roughly the temperature of the surface of the sun. "There's a plug over there by that camper you can plug into," they said, pointing over to another campsite.  We decided we didn't need electricity after all. We said as much, and they told us they'd show us another spot. This spot was also awful, and they were pointing out more electrical outlets in other camper's spots.  With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I assured them that I was incredibly grateful for their thoughtfulness in trying to find us an outlet, but we really didn't need one after all, and could we pretty please have a spot with shade for our ginger boy? Oh, of course, they reassured us. They understood.  "Wasn't there a guy who just left on the dam?" they asked each other.  Oh. No.

We headed out of the camping area. As in, no more camping people. Just boats, water, and the dam ahead of us.  They were legit going to make us camp on the dam.  Suddenly, they pulled up in front of a hidden camping site. It was the only camping spot on this side of the lake, secluded, a bit hard to get to, and PERFECT.   We said we'd take it.  With Jasper asleep in the back, we unloaded as much as we could and then Julie drove off to pay for the site and pick up some firewood.  "Get that up while I'm gone!" Julie shouted as she headed off, pointing to the 8-person tent we'd never set up before.

L. O. L. 

Did I mention that I hadn't gone camping in 23 years, and for her it had been more like 3+ decades? This was a recipe for failure.  Well, I gave it a shot, and nearly gave myself heatstroke in the process.  This is as far as I got before she returned, shocked I'd even attempted it:

Jasper didn't think much of my efforts.

Oh my God she expects me to sleep in that?

Luckily, we worked better together. Jasper chipped in as well after seeing what it would look like if I were left to do it all by myself.

Thug Life

Jasper was pumped to try out his Paw Patrol camping gear

We sat down to congratulate ourselves on managing to get the tent up without having to call in the authorities, and relax for a moment.  I asked Julie how much the site ended up costing, and she sheepishly admitted that she had misheard the host camper on the phone and it was apparently only twelve dollars for the site.  Not sixty.  My poor, deaf wife... When we realized it was close to 5pm and Jasper hadn't eaten anything all day but a grilled cheese and some loose cereal, we thought maybe it was time to unwrap the new camping gear and cook something besides nacho chips for the kid.

Do you know how many marshmallows this thing could hold?

Now, Julie had been telling me for several days about this AMAZING treat she'd seen online.  Apparently if you get some pie filling and stick it between a couple pieces of bread and then toast that over a campfire, it tastes JUST LIKE PIE.  Well, of course we had to try it. After we finished our hot dogs, Julie got out the brand new can opener and opened up the cans of pie filling. She got apple, and I got cherry. We debated putting butter on the outside of the bread but decided that would taste too much like grilled cheese, so we went plain.

Step 1:  Fill the bread

Step 2: Cook it like a pro

Step 3. Admire toasted "pie"

Mine wasn't terribly attractive

Julie's was fantastic looking

Step 4: Consider filling

Step 5: Reaction face

How the heck am I going to put this into MyFitnessPal?

This is her "Meh" face

Verdict: Meh.  It didn't taste like pie, it tasted like pie filling on toast.  Those cooker things would have made bitchin' grilled cheeses though. We were looking forward to lunch the next day.

With dinner under our belts and no electronics to distract us, we set about enjoying the peace and quiet. Julie and Jasper played a little Tee Ball, and I went around taking some pictures of the campsite.

Finally Julie left to go give our cats their medicine, and pick up a few things we'd forgotten (pillows, toothbrush, etc.) I peed in the woods and then took Jasper on a walk.  We saw some geese, played "Going on a Bear Hunt" a few times, and generally spent the next few hours hanging out and having fun.

If I make this face enough she'll stop making me pose

Finally it was time to settle down and head to bed. 

Jasper was so tired he conked out on his own after reading a few books, and eschewed the s'mores we offered to make. If he'd been a teenager and in town we would have assumed he was attempting to sneak out, but as it was he was just really tuckered out and excited to use his Paw Patrol stuff.

If only every night's bedtime were this easy

Julie and I spent a few hours chatting and eating s'mores - at this point all notions of diets were out the door - and enjoying each other's company. It's been a while since we just sat down and chatted, and it was nice to have that quiet time to ourselves. We congratulated ourselves on our procrastination, as if we'd arrived earlier and on time we never would have managed to get the sweetest spot in the campground.  Hooray for dumb luck! Also, can you request camping spots? We want that one EVERY TIME.  And we do want to go back. It was so nice.

Well. I mean.  Until we woke up to thunder (Julie insisted it was "a jet" - for 20 minutes) and a kid who'd gone above and beyond the bedwetting call. Once I got Jasper awake I got him completely naked and then put into a new shirt. Before I even considered putting pants on him I walked him outside to pee. He didn't want to wake up, he didn't want to get changed, and he REALLY didn't want to go outside to pee in the bushes.  He demonstrated his annoyance at me by swinging around and peeing on my bare feet. Thanks kid. I'll get you back someday, just you wait.

We packed up as fast as we could, but still ended up getting pretty wet.  We were really disappointed, as we'd been looking forward to a camp breakfast and grilled cheeses for lunch. Still, we'd done a lot of packing up the night before in order to secure the campsite from any critters, and it didn't take as long as it could have. 

Bungee cord gathering in the rain (AKA Karma for peeing on Mama)

"No rain in the forecast" ;)

Naturally, as soon as we had fully packed up and backed the car out to head home, it started clearing up. By the time we were leaving the park, it was sunny again. Like, brilliantly sunny, gorgeous, would have been fine if we'd been staying another night, perfect.  Oh well.

Not even out of the park limits yet

We got home and unpacked, then got the stuff out to make a great brunch. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, milk, and juice! Jasper even finally tried bacon for the first time, and he really loved it. He also loved the bath he needed after such a wild adventure. Mama and Mommy couldn't wait to take their own baths, either... we needed ours almost as badly! Check out Mama's curly hair after that rain!

Julie and I had set some stuff out in the sun to dry up, and after brunch we put up the tent so it could dry out. Jasper discovered we'd put the tent up, and suddenly couldn't wait for naptime. He evidently thought we were going to allow him to chill out in the back yard for his nap while we stayed inside.  In a few years, I'm sure we'll be perfectly happy to do that, but I doubt he'll be as happy to take naps! Luckily, he's got his very own tent to use, and we set it up in his room for his nap.

What a great time, even though it rained!

Before Camping

After Camping

Thanks, Spring Lake Park, for being a wonderful place to make memories of our very first camping trip as a family! We'll be back!!!

P.S. Check out Jasper's thoughts on the trip here.

Feeling Panicky

New things scare me. They scare the pants off of me. In fact, I usually just avoid new things so that I don't have to worry about losing my pants in public. Sometimes, however, those things are necessary. Like actually giving birth to the baby I got myself pregnant with.  Apparently once it's in there, it has to come out one way or another... The pants really did come off in public that time...Anyway, I digress.  Three years ago I started thinking about graduate school. My employer offers this amazing benefit of 6hrs of in-state tuition EVERY semester.  That's incredible. At first I didn't avail myself of this opportunity because I had no desire to be back in school.  I needed to focus on just having a "real job" for a while.  Then I was focused on having a baby. After I finally started sleeping again after the baby arrived (a year later), I realized that I'd actually fallen in love with librarianship and I really wanted to be an official one. I wanted to be able to say I was a librarian without getting the stink-eye from people who had the real degrees. And there was a way to get a (nearly) free degree.  I would be stupid not to take them up on it.

So I applied, got accepted, and then had to go through with it. Two and a half years ago, in January of 2014, I left my baby for the very first time ever and spent a week with strangers in what my program calls "boot camp."  And oh boy, was it. There was an incident at the end that I kind of hope I'll have forgotten about in another decade or two that involved hysterical crying in front of the entire cohort after my final quiz essay got deleted right in front of me, two minutes before the time was up... I was fairly sure there were bets on whether or not I'd be quitting the program. I was sure thinking about it myself. But that was after staying up all night long to finish a paper (turned it in at 5:45am!), and I decided to give myself at least a semester to see if I could handle it.  And I could.

In fact, this program turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life.  Only taking two classes a semester allowed me to really focus on each class and give them the attention they deserved. I turned in every assignment (with only a few extensions), and after that darned boot camp class gave me a B+, I got straight As (even a few A+s), leaving me with an overall GPA of 3.98.  I am incredibly proud of myself.  I accomplished this feat while working full time, parenting a toddler every moment I wasn't working, and often on my own as my wife works several jobs to make ends meet and is usually gone in the evenings and weekends, especially in the fall. On the other hand, now my kid knows how to play on a computer better than I did at the age of 15. Hey, cheaper than the babysitter we used to have to get on my school nights. By the end of this program we had a real routine down pat.

Now, however, I am facing a new challenge. Graduation.  I'm terrified.  It was scary enough in high school, with people holding my hand at every turn, and a practice session.  In college, it was pretty horrifying, but at least I was familiar with the campus and had sat through a couple previous ceremonies for friends.  Now, though, I have to travel three hours to the campus, pick up my cap and gown from a building I've never been to (in person, I sure as hell stalked that place on google maps and with pictures and building blueprints), assemble at another place I've never been to, and then yet another place.

This is a three day event for me.

• Tomorrow we'll drop our son off at daycare where he'll wait to be picked up by one of his dads for the weekend. We'll drive to our hotel that is half an hour away from the city (because when I booked six months in advance everything within a half hour radius was booked solid), then drive to the city to pick up my cap and gown.  Then back to the hotel to steam it and finish freaking out for the evening. 
• Saturday we'll wake up excruciatingly early and drive to .... some... parking spot.... on a super crowded campus... and join the thousands of people who will be there to see their undergraduate, graduate, or doctoral candidate student graduate.  This place is so big that I won't walk that day. I'll just stand up in a big fat group of my friends. My poor wife will likely be sitting alone in this stadium.  Then we're free for the rest of the day, hopefully to meet up with friends for lunch or dinner, and probably to do some tourist-y type graduation pictures. 
• Sunday we have to do it all over again, except on a smaller scale. This one will be my program's convocation. This one I'll be walking in. This is the one that will make me feel like I've really graduated, I think. Then we'll probably have lunch and head back home to pick up our son where he'll have been dropped off at our friend's house.  Then I will be able to relax.

Did I mention it's all going to be on live feed?  If I fall down, ERRYBODY'S GONNA KNOW. I have to go through with this. I have to do it. When it's over I'll be so glad I did it.  But holy crap am I scared.  I took today off to basically clean my house and calm myself down so I'm not rushing around having a panic attack tomorrow. Ha. Who am I kidding? That's exactly what's going to happen anyway. Send me a kind thought if you have a moment this weekend.  Or, if you want to watch me fall on my face, here are the links to the graduation ceremonies:

Part 1: Saturday, May 14th at 9:30am (Campuswide ceremony, I will be standing up with my fellow graduates in a large group, 2hrs)

Part 2: Sunday, May 15th at 9:30am (Smaller ceremony in which I will cross the stage, 1.5hrs)

P.S. I'll be wearing a dress so my pants can't be scared off of me.

Things You Don't Expect to be Included in Potty Training

This morning I got out of the shower. Jasper was sitting on his little potty next to the big one. He had pulled the lid up on the big potty (the seat was down) and had put his arm on the seat and was resting his head on his arm.

"Ew, don't lay your head on the seat!" I said.

He sat up and looked at me, and repeated, "Ew, don't lick the seat!"

What? I'd looked away at this point and looked back at him just in time to see him lean down and lick the seat, and then look back up and me and laugh, with shining bright eyes.

"LOL FUNNY!?!?"

No, kid. That is not funny. Now get away from the potty so I can puke. EW.

-3yrs, 3mos.

Colonoscopy/Botox Surgery Live Blog. This is happening, people.

So I have to have a super embarrassing surgery.  I’m getting Botox. In my butt.  In my anal sphincter, to be precise.  I can get into details if you’d like, but we all know you wouldn’t like.  The short version is that I’m literally a tight-ass and together with my IBS it’s causing problems, so I’m getting Botox injected to help it relax just a little. I’m praying it’s not enough to cause problems of another sort. Oh, and a colonoscopy while he’s down there, just for fun. I thought I’d do a sort of live-blog of my prep and surgery in case anyone else has to go through this and is terrified of what awaits.  I’ve been polling my friends, and I’ve heard both “it’s not a big deal” and “I wanted to kill myself,” so here we are. I’ll be completely out for the surgery since apparently Botox needles hurt like crazy, so my very sweet colorectal surgeon said I needed to be asleep. Bonus points for not being able to say ridiculous drugged-up things during my colonoscopy. By the way, I have a problem with talking about bowel movements and can only call it poop or farting if I’m talking about it with my child, so this is mostly an exercise in openness and not being embarrassed. And using words like poop. And fart.

My toddler is out of state for the week, visiting his dads, so I am going to be able to poop in peace the evening beforehand, when my entire system needs flushed. I had to move the surgery once because I hadn’t consulted my wife and it turned out that she had scheduled workers to come into our basement that day/evening before, but she would be gone. So I would be the contact person for that, as well as having to deal with a toddler, as well as “the cleanse.” Nope. I moved it to the week my son would be gone, and then later they tried to move the surgery to the following week because of a surgical room conflict, but I went into bear-mode and explained that they would, in fact, FIGURE. IT. OUT. And call me back.   So they did. And now instead of an early morning surgery, I will be having it sometime around noonish.  Here we go!

T-Minus 2… I don’t know how that works.  The day before the day before the surgery.

No Fun, Ever

I’m eating anything that can’t run away from me, trying to build up my blood sugar…. Who am I kidding? The prospect of not being able to eat anything for a day and a half is terrifying. I’m eating like I’ll never eat again. Chips? Check. Tacos? Yes, please. Soda? In the name of blood sugar, of course. Cherry cheesecake? DOWN THE HATCH. At this point I remembered something about not eating red foods, and dug out my pre-surgery paper. Sure enough, no red foods, but I have a couple hours until it’s clear liquid diet time. At midnight I am supposed to switch over. Sounds like time for candy, to me.

The day before the surgery.

I wake up hungry. This is not a good sign. My wife gets to sleep in, as it is Columbus Day and her school still celebrates it. I lie in bed contemplating how badly I really need this surgery, then sigh and take a shower. I consider shaving, and then decide I’ll save that for tomorrow morning so I’m extra fresh for them. I take my regular pills with some unsweetened almond milk and feel like a badass for breaking the rules. I head to work, and once there with my rumbly stomach I reach for my Cabinet-O-Goodies so many times that I eventually make myself a sign and stick it on my keyboard.

NO FOOD

I have Poop #1 of the day at work thanks to the one private bathroom in the building. It’s painful and there’s bleeding, so I’ve already started the day off nicely. This pain, nonexistent when I haven’t pooped in a day or so, will stick around for hours and hours after a bowel movement, especially if I’m sitting down. With the extreme amount of pooping coming my way, I know I’m in for a GREAT EVENING.  I leave for the store at noon.

At the store, I stop by the pharmacy to pick up my Miralax/Dulcolax duo that the office said they called in for me, and hold up a line of people while my hot young male pharmacist guy runs around looking for it. After a big to-do about it being on the shelf and getting it for me in which they had to open up another line, he gets out a bag from behind the counter that he’d previously pulled out when I told him my name.

“Well what’s that, then?” I ask him, pointing to the bag.

“Uh….” he says, checking the label. “Polyethylene Glycol.” 

“What the hell is that?” I question, sighing.

“Um, I’m… actually not sure,” he admits, and checks the system.  Super inspiring.  “Oh, it’s the pharmacy version of the Miralax I just got you. It’s cheaper.”

“I’ll take the cheaper one, thanks,” I say.  Duh. 

“Do you want me to go get the Dulcolax?” he asks, helpfully.

I sigh again. “No, help these people behind me. I’ll just figure it out myself.”

Unfortunately, all it said on my instruction sheet was “4 tablets Dulcolax.” It did not say whether this needed to be the “gentle overnight” version, or the box with four suppository tablets for “fast relief” that worked within 15 minutes to 1 hour. Given that I was supposed to take these tablets after everything “ran clear,” I eventually went with the gentle overnight version. No need to force more diarrhea than was necessary. One of the nurses from the office called to let me know that my Botox was approved by the insurance (nothing like last minute approvals), and she also confirmed that I’d chosen the right laxative. Whew!

I picked up the other items on my list, and a few others that occurred to me while at the store. I pushed my cart up to a checkout aisle with a nice older lady behind the counter. She smiled kindly as she beeped across: 

• My new soft-cushiony toilet seat
• Four soups and cereal for my recovery meals
• Two packs of lime Jell-O (Why the hell does nearly every Jell-O out there include red dye? There was red, orange, purple, and blue in one big pack. Thanks, but I don’t want them to think I’m dying, so I’ll stick with the more expensive individual packs)
• Two large candles
• A six pack of 7up
• Four 32oz Gatorades
• Two jars of bouillon
• Dulcolax
• Hemorrhoid pads
• Extra strength, fast relief Tylenol

I had already paid for my pharmaceutical Miralax, so she didn't have to handle that one. The checkout woman had clearly had this procedure done before, judging by the rueful smile she gave me as she said, “Have a nice day….”

My Loot

1:25pm – I put away the cereal and take one bite, because I’m a badass, as previously stated, and Don’t Feed The Bears rules don’t apply to me.

1:30pm – I install my very first toilet seat. Our old one had a crack in the seat, and I need some fresh cushion for the evening’s activities.

2:00pm – I eat my first Jell-O cup. If this were college and that had been a shot, I’d be drunk by now.

2:15pm – My wife comes home from her hair appointment and gently asks me how I’m doing. I admit I haven’t started yet because I’m scared. I contemplate making some broth.

2:30pm – This Chicken and Herbs broth is freaking amazing. I think I might be able to handle a liquid diet, minus the laxatives. Well. Maybe for like a couple days.

2:35pm – You know what would be delicious with this broth? Chicken. Noodles. Crackers. Something to bite.  *sigh* Okay I really have to start this laxative stuff soon.  Ish. Soonish. By 3:30 at the latest. I know they said 2pm, but that was before my surgery was rescheduled for four hours later. I want to feel full as long as possible.

2:38pm – I start watching the CW TV show Beauty and the Beast, from the beginning.

2:40pm – This show has an amazing soundtrack.

2:42pm – This show is fascinating.

2:43pm – Not a big fan of the line, “Does she have a husband? Boyfriend? Lesbian lover?”  Why not just say “Does she have a husband? Boyfriend? Wife? Girlfriend?”  Ugh.

2:45pm – I light one of my new candles. I might be stalling.

2:57pm – The elixir has been mixed. My wife comes home and asks me if I needed any Depends undies for the following day, and I smack my forehead. She is amazing and offers to pick some up for me tonight.

3:00pm – I drink my first 8 ounces. That wasn’t so bad! Pretty tasty, with my cherry frost Gatorade! (The clear/white kind, remember.) My wife reminds me to put on some comfy, easily removed clothing. I set a timer for the next drink. I go pee to make some room for all this yummy laxative juice.

3:15pm – Okay, here goes round 2. Nothing is happening yet.

3:30pm – Round 3. Still delicious. Still no poo.

3:39pm – Feeling kind of farty. But not really. Like that feeling you get when you know you’re going to be farty soon.

3:45pm – Here goes 4! Still nothing happening, I think to myself, and then suddenly I race to the bathroom. SURPRISE! POOP TIME! Except for the surprise part, it wasn’t too bad. The drink stuff is half gone now.

4:00pm – Fifth drink down, three to go. Feeling okay. Now I’m worried about surprise poop though. You know, we’re potty training my toddler and a few times we just put the potty out in the living room in front of the television. For just a few split second I consider moving the television into the bathroom…

4:11pm – I can’t tell if I have to pee REALLY BADLY or I’m about to poop.

4:13pm – Both. I feel like this would be a lot more enjoyable if I didn’t already have a really severe anal fissure. There is no cramping or pain as far as the colon goes. Just some discomfort for me at the booty.

4:15pm – Here we are on drink six. Okay this is getting tedious. I am starting to be concerned that I won’t like Gatorade after this…

4:30pm – Nothing much to say. Watching Poldark now, which I’m really enjoying. Aidan Turner is fun to watch. Just had my seventh drink. One to go!

4:38pm – Uh oh. TO THE BATHROOM!

4:45pm – THE LAST OF IT!!!  Oh crud.  Not the last of it. There is still one more to go.

5:00pm – And that’s it! Well, until the Dulcolax at 6pm. TMI here. Well, really this whole post is TMI… So I had to poop again, with that incredibly urgent feeling. TMI ahead: It’s really a strange feeling to poop so much liquid and with so much force that it feels like you’re peeing… but not. Not at all painful. Just a lot of liquid.

5:25pm – THEY FOUND COPPER IN THE MINE!!!  Uh... that is not a euphemism, and might be a spoiler if anyone reading this is actually watching Poldark.

5:28pm – To the toilet again. This is my fifth bathroom trip since starting this. The liquid is nearly clear now.  It’s so weird, to feel this super urgent need to poop, go with force, and then immediately be done.  Normally when I have diarrhea I’m on the toilet for far too long. Now it’s almost faster than just going pee.  Here’s a question – how did they determine exactly how much laxative was needed to get a person to the finish line? Who tested that?

5:52pm – Bathroom trip #6. I’m starting to get hungry again. Maybe some more broth? Or Jell-O? The possibilities are endless. I must say, I could definitely have done this with my three year old here. I’ve been in the bathroom a lot, but no more than any other night when I have diarrhea and he’s here and I’m dealing with it on my own. And really, this time I’m not cramping and feeling nauseated, so this is actually better. I am feeling a bit tired, though.

6:16pm – On the toilet again, just for a bit. I was supposed to take that Dulcolax fifteen minutes ago, but I got distracted by facebook and writing bad poetry on a lark.  And damn am I tired. I could fall asleep right now. It’s only 6:30… should I? I feel like maybe I should “eat” something before I do that. Maybe I could lick a marshmallow or something?

6:35pm – I finally took the Dulcolax. I rewarded myself with another hot cup of broth, and a Jell-O for dinner. Both of them! Living large, people!  Side note: my bowels are kind of cramping now, but not like normal… like they’re suddenly dehydrated? I don’t know how to explain it, but it hurts. I might go for some Tylenol in a short while.

6:47pm – Bathroom again. I just want to go to bed. Waaaaahhh.

7:03pm – Uh oh, toddler wants to Skype. Fast bathroom break just in case.

7:04pm – That was a very good idea.

7:23pm – Four books read over Skype later, my spirits are up and I think it’s time for some more broth!!  I’ll try beef this time, since it JUST occurred to me that I picked out “chicken and herbs” and there are… um… herbs in it, and they specifically said “no pulp” so I probably wasn’t supposed to drink broth with floating spices… Whoops.  It was delicious, though.

Broth Is Amazing

7:34pm – Distracted by facebook again. Why isn’t anyone here to microwave me some broth??

7:35pm – Bathroom.

7:40pm – Making more broth. Fairly certain that the bag of Salted Caramel Peanuts sitting on top of the pie safe just solicited me, and then taunted me when I staunchly refused. I consider sneaking some of them into the hospital for an aftercare snack.

8:00pm – Toilet, toilet, sitting on the toiiiiiiiiiiilet

8:40pm – Mmmm this candle smells good.  As I run past it to go to the bathroom.

8:46pm – I’m really cold. I think I’ll cuddle up with a book in a blanket. I wonder if being cold has anything to do with losing all the food keeping me warm from my insides out?

8:57pm – Broke out the hemorrhoid pads during this bathroom trip.  Can I just remind all the women out there to keep that away from your cootchie? Because witch hazel on the cootchie feels about what I imagine wiping yourself with hot wing sauce would feel like.

9:30pm – Things are slowing down pretty well now. Everything is clear coming out, and there isn’t much sense of urgency now. This is what, toilet trip #14? Whew. I should probably reward myself for this bravery with some Jell-O. 

9:35pm – Does rainbow sherbet count as a “clear liquid?” Asking for a friend. A very hungry friend.

10:45pm – With no further toilet trips and barely able to keep my eyes open, I’m using the bathroom and going to bed. I think the worst is over.

The day of the surgery.

12:10am – I just woke up to use the bathroom in a most urgent way. Also, I noticed that it wasn’t clear anymore. I hope that’s normal and it’s not a problem for them during the surgery tomorrow!

3:50am – Ugh. Still having diarrhea and now it’s the kind where I don’t feel good. Intestinal nausea? I keep feeling like I’m going to have to go more, and generally “don’t feel good.”

7:50am – I wake up for good and use the toilet and there is only pee. I feel totally fine, and not even really very hungry. I’ve lost 2lbs since beginning this “cleanse.”

8:35am – I am getting really nervous. The last time I went under general anesthesia was twenty years ago when I got 5 teeth pulled for my braces. Back then I didn’t know the risks, really. Now I’m all, “Say your goodbyes!” I text my friend to make sure of the time she’s picking me up to take me in, and she reassures me, and I get a couple of messages from other friends wishing me well.

8:42am – The wife turns on SportsCenter. I secretly consider canceling everything and just staying home and watching Netflix or reading in the bedroom.

9:05am – I gather my clothes to take a shower. I’m going about all of this like it’s a funeral, moping and choosing dark solids. I’ll be showing up in various shades of gray. I suddenly remember that I have to take my rings off (or they'll take them or tape them down) and I get sadder.

My Ring Holder

9:38am – Body clean. Check. Shaved. Check. Wearing comfy neutral-colored clothing because that’s my safe space. Check.  Ooh, I should paint my nails…

10:25am – Okay, I’ve emailed my professor to let her know that I may or may not be able to attend my online class tonight at 5:30pm.  I’ve done my forum post for the day.  I haven’t painted my nails. My friend will be here in fifteen minutes. I’m freaking out a little.

10:34am – I’m not panic sweating, YOU’RE panic sweating!!!!  I reapply deodorant. I have to pee, but am waiting to do it because I know they’re going to make me take a urine pregnancy test when I get there, even though I haven’t been with a man in eleven years, and the last contact I had with semen was in November of 2011 when I got pregnant. On purpose.

10:40am – My friend arrives to pick me up, since my wife has to be at the house to meet the construction workers who arrive just as we need to leave. I have just panic-applied fingernail polish to my hands, and she catches me waving them around like a crazy person. She drives me to the hospital.

10:56am – Check in. I feel like the sexiest colonoscopy patient ever, with the rest of the people in the waiting room being 65+.

11:16am – My professor emails me back. “I do remember you emailing about this, and I appreciate you keeping me apprised of developments. Please know that I do not expect you to be in class on the same day you are having any kind of surgery, let alone one that requires general anesthesia.” Challenge accepted. See you at 5:30pm.

11:50ish am – Head back to the Pre-Op with a nurse person. She tells me, speaking roughly 426 words a minute, to strip down completely naked except for my socks. (Like a bad porn flick?) She gives me booties to wear over the socks, a gown to wear, and a gown-robe for privacy. And a urine specimen cup. I have to go pee, thankfully, and so I can fill the cup with my non-pregnant pee.

12:10ish pm – The anesthesiologist comes in to talk to me, and explains how the anesthesia will go. I would fall asleep quickly and wake up quickly with no real side effects, since I wouldn’t be intubated. “It’s an easy way to go,” he says. I start laughing and ask him to please rephrase that, as I’m already a bit nervous. He apologizes and laughs along with me.

12:30ish pm – I am hooked up to an IV and a blood pressure cuff and given the thing with controls to the TV in my waiting area, as well as buttons for “Sad” and “Potty” and what appears to be “Winged Nun” according to the pictures. They bring my friend back and she talks me down from my “I’m leaving” ledge. She also snickers through my super embarrassing answers to the questions they ask me, promises they’ll never hit facebook, and offers to let me attend her next gynecological appointment for revenge chuckles.

12:50pm – Time to head back! They kick my friend out, pull back the curtain, and wheel me down the hall into an OR, where my anesthesiologist is NOT THE SAME GUY. Larry informs me that the doctor I spoke to was the HEAD anesthesiologist and that is totally different. Well okay then, Larry. Take me to Funkytown.

1:00pm – I’m so drunk. The room is spinning, but it’s spinning UP. Everything is going from the floor to the ceiling. That is totally weird. So is going from sober to drunk in like 1 minute.  They can’t find my surgeon but they know he’s around. They discuss texting him or calling, and decide on texting. I have no problem staying mildly drunk, so I kind of hope he takes a while.

1:05pm – My surgeon arrives and seems annoyed with me, and asks me questions about if I’m having diarrhea. He’s Brazilian so I can’t figure out if it’s his accent or my drunkenness, but I’m like, “I’m not pooping right now, but I certainly did last night…” They all laughed at that, so tension is relieved.  I get the impression he wants me to understand why I am there and getting a colonoscopy, so I parrot back the information he quoted to me during our first appointment, about how I self-diagnosed myself with IBS and that was not okay and he needed to check me out. “Right,” he says.  I zonk out.

Like This

2:00pm – I am back in the pre-op area, which is now post-op. My butt hurts, but no worse than it has been after a bowel movement in the last six months. I’m still a bit drunk so I’m asking questions and re-asking them a few moments later.  I am not farting at all, which is excellent news. Everything I read about colonoscopies said I would be farting a ton.

2:05pm – My surgeon says something about it going fine and he’ll see me in two weeks for my follow-up appointment and then he’s gone, if he was ever there at all. Maybe a nurse said this. I am helped into a chair and given some water to drink. Sweet, sweet, sweet water. I cry because I wanted my surgeon to stay and chat with me about what was happening, and I feel like everything is happening too fast and I don’t understand what’s going on.

2:10pm – My friend comes back to be with me, and moments later my wife does too. They chat while I get naked and dress again, locker-room style, pulling on my undies underneath my robe, etc. My friend informs me that her eleven-year-old daughter has the same sports bra as me. Although I suspect mine, being three years old, is a bit nastier than her kid’s.

2:15pm – My friend and my wife argue about who’s going to take me home (who has the easier car to get in and out of), and finally my friend with the mini-van wins.

2:30pm – I get into the house, still sucking on my water. Wife arrives just after we do, and my friend unlocks the house with her key. I get the mail and show her my newly arrived credit card with a picture on it that she took. We say goodbye to my friend and she goes home, and I head to the kitchen, where I promptly shove a chocolate chip cookie and a handful of salted caramel peanuts into my mouth before my wife can stop me.

2:35pm – There are workers putting wall anchors into our basement, and there is intermittent jackhammering going on, as well as ridiculously loud country music playing. Thank goodness I didn’t expect to be napping.

2:45pm – I’m on my second bowl of cheddar broccoli soup and halfway through a package of peanut butter and jelly crackers, and my wife has promised me that I get to have Jimmy Johns for dinner if I am good and don’t throw up anything I’ve just shoved into my mouth. I assure her that I am a champ and can keep it down. She also fills my now-empty water cup with 7up, which I have determined I like a lot better than either Sprite or Sierra Mist.

3:00pm – I am now constantly peeing. Thanks, IV and new liquids.

4:26pm – The anesthesia has pretty much entirely worn off. I don’t know that I would go driving right now, but I suspect if I did I’d be okay.

4:50pm – Okay, I probably shouldn't have eaten so fast.  The diarrhea is back. Luckily, now I can take some immodium... Back to life as normal, I guess. Class starts in 25 minutes!

Overall, this was a pretty decent experience. I think that if I had to do it again, I would. My only hesitation would be making sure someone could be with me at the hospital, and probably making sure there weren’t too many people at the house with me the evening before.  If you have to get one done and are worried about the experience, I would say don’t be.  I don’t believe for regular colonoscopies you get put all the way out like that, but even so I don’t think it’s probably too terrible. Everyone was really nice and it was not too traumatic at all.

7.5/10, would Colonoscopy again.