We’ll try anything, won’t we?
Climb mountains, light candles, drink tea, drink beer, light candles, smoke dope, give up sex (now that last one’s just dumb).
It’s important to take advantage of any personal circumstance. Your best friend’s husband is having an affair with his ophthalmologist—“OMG, that animal! How could he do that? There, there, let me get you a nice cup of tea and a tissue and you sit right here and let it all out so I can take notes for a scene I’ll write later.”
When the celebrated writer Dagoberto Gilb suffered a stroke, he started writing about it, literally before he regained use of his right hand. The story “Please, Thank you” first was published in Harper’s and then in his latest collection Before the End, After the Beginning. It opens with him regaining consciousness in the hospital and includes a bit where he explains about typing entirely left-handed and how that affects his writing. The story is amazing and powerful and makes me cry when I read it. He’s such a show off.
Nonetheless, newly fifty years old, proudly joining the ranks of the middle-aged, I’m ready for my seminal-sparking physical and personal challenge. What I get is a colonoscopy screening.
I go to a dinner gathering where everyone at the table has already had a colonoscopy. I can’t even have an original disease. I don’t think that’s very fair. Do you think that’s fair?
I remind myself that it’s not the original circumstance, as there are indeed few, but rather the character’s original experience of the circumstance that makes for a great story.
I do research, get notes from my seasoned peer group: “When I picked up my friend, she was too loopy to get dressed. I had to go into the bathroom with her.” “My husband picked me up and I thought I hadn’t even done it yet, but he said I was all through.” “It’s not the actual colonoscopy, it’s the prep. You have to drink so much.”
I learn to dread the prep before I even pick it up from the pharmacy. It’s something icky I have to drink lots of that’s going to make me poop. A lot. And I can’t eat for a whole day before the actual procedure.
In Dagoberto’s first novel, The Last Known Residence of Mickey Acuña, the title character doesn’t always have money for food. He survives by exercising away his hunger and mooching tortilla chips off his friend. He’s grateful for the tortilla chips. Maybe they were corn chips.
The truth is, when the day comes, I don’t get that hungry. I drink water, green tea, white grape juice, iced Sobe coconut water, hot chicken broth, and eat lemon and lime Jell-O. Maybe around four o’clock I get a little headache, but I eat an extra bowlful of green Jell-O and it goes away. It’s just not that hard to skip eating for a day with a pantry full of food I know I can dig into tomorrow.
Growing up, there was never money in my household, but there was always food. My dad kept a vegetable garden. A potato farmer friend gave us boxes of potatoes. My mom made homemade bread, homemade everything. My uncle the butcher would give us a whole cow to eat. It would hang in the walk-in cooler until my dad carved it up. I never liked going into the cooler when there was a cow in there.
We had this big cooler, the size of a huge bathroom, because my dad owned a small country beer tavern, and the cooler was for the beer. I think he ran the tavern at break-even for years, but it fed us. Dagoberto could write about having a stroke with passion and grace, because he actually had a stroke. By colonoscopy time—39 hours without solid food—I’m sick of Jello-O and I’ve had exactly one small hunger pang.
So the answer is no, a colonoscopy cannot make you a better writer. Not when your doctor is doing it as a preventative health measure that your insurance is paying for and when you have a friend who is going to take you out to eat right after and then bring you home to your comfy house, where your dog will be glad to see you.
No. You can’t cheat and take a cheap spinoff of someone else’s experience and produce a worthy story. I imagined this post as potentially funny, how I could take my camera to the hospital and get pics of any hot male nurses and then end by writing whatever I would write while still high on anesthesia. But there’s really nothing funny about not actually being hungry when the world is the way it is.
XO Laurel Leigh
16 responses to “Can A Colonoscopy Make You a Better Writer?”
Haven’t had mine yet little sister. I am happy you fared so well with yours. I am so proud of you and your writing.
Thank you, sis! I hope you get a colonoscopy soon. It’s so important to do.
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Wonderful writing, Laurel! Made me laugh and cry and think, which is all we can ask for as readers, right? Thanks for this!
Hi Selah! Thanks for reading and I’m glad you liked the post. I’m enjoying Dream of a Vast Blue Cavern a lot. I like the contrast between Stasia and Larc.
Wow, Laurel. Great essay! Students of the essay, take note: several threads were woven together here very effectively, and then just when you thought you knew what it was all about and how it was going to end: A+B=C, you find out that A+B actually equals D.
Thinking and laughing and thinking some more. I’m admiring your skill, and all I can say is well done!
Thanks for the high praise, Jill! I finished that post right before I headed to the doc and was surprised at my own final thoughts about it.
Ah yes, that thing about writing to discover what we think. Yes, indeed.
Wonderful post, Laurel Leigh. Funny, dead on, and some really fun points here… I wrote a post on colonoscopies, but I don’t think it helped my writing either. 😉
Thank you so much for reading and for the good words! Heading over to look for your colonoscopy post!
What month was your colonscopy post in so I can find it? Just blew back through a few months and didn’t run across it. Thanks!
You are too kind, for searching! I try not to put links on other people’s blogs, but thanks for asking: http://talesfromthemotherland.me/2013/03/11/he-says-she-says-2/
That is too hilarious–I love the cross-outs! I’m oddly happy to be in the colonoscopy club. It’s like discovering a new land, only to realize many people are already there to welcome you. I’m still laughing over your post. I hope my readers head over to read it.
Thanks Laurel Leigh… aside from the drugs (and the drugs are gooood), you just have to laugh at a colonoscopy! Welcome to the club; it’s a very elite group!
Yeah, we should get badges or something!