Pull My Finger

I am so immature. Really. It's like I'm stuck in 7th grade sometimes. For example, I always find flatulance funny. I just can't help it. It turns on my giggle button every time. I can't even say the word "poot" without snickering. Don't you think it's funny? Say it over and over again, quickly. Go ahead. I'll wait. See what I mean. It's funny. Hubby had a routine colonoscopy today, and I tried to be mature about it, but I couldn't resist the really bad jokes, and I laughed throughout the entire process. I was bad.

It actually started at the doctor's office when we received his instructions for the procedure. You see, medical professionals who deal with this stuff all day every day have their own sense of humor about it, too. The nurse explained the whole "cleansing" process that takes place the day before the colonoscopy. Essentially you take a whole bunch of super duper laxative in a short amount of time and eat a liquid diet. It is NOT funny, except to the people watching you run to the bathroom every few minutes. The nurse made a little crack (tee hee, get it? crack? Told ya' I was immature.) about not going jogging after taking the cleanser, and I got the giggles. Then the rest of the medical staff got the giggles watching me giggle. Hubby was not amused.

This morning the nurse who guided us through the procedure tried some bodily function humor to lighten up Hubby's attitude about the test. It didn't work on him, but it worked on me, and I had to turn my head and pretend to have a coughing fit. Now, if the whole laxative followed by the butt cam thing weren't humiliating enough, there's the excessive gas part that follows the test. I do mean excessive. Monster gas. Elephant trumpeting through the jungle kind of gas. There were twenty six people having this test today, and about a dozen of them were all lined up in roughly the same area at the same time. That's a lot of trumpeting. I might have made a comment or two about musical instruments. I also may have snorted out loud when the nurse joked about room curtains fanning. And I may have made the tiniest joke about the stoned look Hubby had on his face from the anesthesia immediately after the procedure. I couldn't help it. The peyote scene in "Young Guns" kept running through my head.

I am not proud of myself. I tried to make up for it. I had an icy Diet Coke waiting for him as soon has he came back to the room. I patted his hand, and waited on him. I helped him with his clothes and picked up his favorite breakfast on the way home. Hopefully, he didn't see me biting my lip over that whole backless hospital gown incident.