Wednesday, April 25, 2007

The Jupiter Chronicles


Yesterday I took a trip to Jupiter. Don't snicker. I really did. While I was there, or so I am told, a doctor and his assistants probed the coiled conundrum of my colon, taking videos and screenshots just like a tourist capturing images of Fifth Avenue or the Champs-Elysees or Unter den Linden. The medical explorers even sent off a few polyp souvenirs for further study. When I perused the photo album presented after the journey, I winced. It wasn't my cup of tea. It wasn't my picture of a semicolon. But back to Jupiter. I was there. I certainly was not in the room where the "procedure" was performed (don't you just love that word, procedure? It's so tidy, so antiseptic, so pain-free-sounding). I have no recollection of the journey the video camera recorded, no memory of pain or discomfort or anxiety. Just before going to Jupiter, I do remember saying, "Should I watch the screen?" "Some do, some don't," came the reply. "I'm feeling a little light-headed," I reported. "Don't fight it," came the recommendation. That's the last thing I recall before my interplanetary journey. Funny thing is, I don't remember anything about Jupiter either. It was neither white nor black, neither colorful nor colorless, neither gauzy nor glaring. Well, yeah, it was kind of gauzy. By deduction, I take it to be a pleasant place where time passes without notice, a place without care or conflict. Much like Heaven, I guess, in our collective Hegelian-Jungian imagination. I'd go back in a heartbeat, if heartbeats even exist on Jupiter. I can only surmise about Jupiter after the fact. It was a very smooth ride going there and coming back. I think the airline was called Demoral Versed Express (or was it the De Moral Express Versed? What rhymes would be chanted to induce sleep on that orbiter?). Upon returning to Earth, so I am told, I queried the doctor repeatedly and persistently and heart-breakingly, saying things like, "I know you told me the scale of zero to five was for pain, but what about the polyps? Can you give them a scale of zero to five?" Over and over again, oblivious to anything the doctor would say. Upon reflection post-Jupiter, this sounded to me alarmingly like a besotted bar patron, or a patient in an Alzheimer's ward, or a vision of me fast-future-forward in a hospital ward or nursing home. Allegedly upon my descent from Jupiter I recited portions of the Hail Mary (likely fearing Final Exit from this Vale of Tears) and jabbered lovingly about the Boston Red Sox (beloved Major League Baseball team of my late friend Doug, who succumbed to cancer nearly two years ago), but inexplicably I reportedly said nothing about my San Francisco Giants. Looking back, I'm most grateful I didn't say anything at all about having sex with that ostrich at the Berlin Zoo. Whew.

9 comments:

Meloncutter said...

You just had to know I could not let this opportunity pass.

You may have taken your trip to Jupiter, but everyone else on the tour went to Uranus.

That's all I got to say about that.

Later Y'all

Glamourpuss said...

You know, the ostrich was under the impression it wasn't just a casual encounter. You men are all alike...

Puss

jbwritergirl said...

Oh yes...the great butt-probe. Been there done that but I must agree with meloncutter that you were more likely on Uranus even though it may have felt more Jupiter for you under the influence!

azgoddess said...

i've taken that trip to jupiter also...and woke up the next day -- seriously....

not sure if i babbled to the docs as i never saw them again..

reminds me of that song -- what a drag it is getting old...rolling stones -- little mother's helper

Sheila said...

what a great post! On a side note.... my favorite planet has always been Jupiter. I don't know why.... maybe because it is the biggest planet with all these moons.... anywho I'm getting off topic. haha have a good day!

monicker said...

God, I hope I never have to go to Jupiter. Sounds like a hell of a place.

Dafath said...

Been there...
done that...

the zoo, that is

agd

heartinsanfrancisco said...

After my C-section, I told the doctor that I had dreamed I flew across the Atlantic on a Milk-Bone dog biscuit.

He yanked the syringe out of the nurse's hand and said, "My little friend here is going on aspirin."

It was the first time in my life I actually understood the lure of drugs.

Army said...

Well crap, I KNEW the Uranus comment would already be taken...

While I haven't had any colon-izing trips to Jupiter, I did get the sweet sleep trip for my wisdom teeth extraction. Not sure where I went, but it was over in a blink for me.