Can't You See The Camera Loves Me?

So, what did I do to start the new year? I took a couple of vacation days. You know, just for me. What did I do? Well, Thursday was "me" day. I went to the eye doctor, came home, then drank two liters of a "cherry-flavored" laxative. The rest of the day went pretty much how you'd expect.

Friday was a special treat. I got to have a colonoscopy! Oh, I forgot to mention that before. That's why I spent Thursday drinking laxatives, so that I'd be good and clean for the little camera that would soon be snaking its way through my body's "Texas."

Colonoscopies, if you've never had one, are a lot of fun. Seriously. They're an outpatient procedure, so you don't have to hassle with a hospital room, but you still get to get totally naked behind a curtain while strangers are doing office work ten feet away. When else in your life can you make that dream come true and not have to face charges later? Then comes the best part. A lovely young nurse comes in with more paperwork for you to sign, and you'd better go ahead and do it now, because in a few minutes there's gonna be a needle taped to the back of your hand. Awesome. Having an IV, in case you didn't know, is like having a bottomless drink. Of saltwater. That goes straight into you. Through a needle.

Then you get to sit there for a while, until another nurse comes and takes you into the procedure room, which looks more like a storage closet than any television show O.R. And for some reason soft rock from the 1970s is playing while still more nurses attach heart monitors and other wires to you, then somebody does something to your IV and you pass out. When you open your eyes someone's shouting at you and you have no idea where you are or even that any time has passed. But you hazily get dressed, make a joke to yourself about the walk of shame, then someone shows you some pictures of your guts and tells you everything is fine. Then someone drives you home. If you're really lucky they stop and pick up some Chinese take-out for you for lunch.

So, that's how I spent my vacation days. Here's some pictures:



Notice the smooth texture.


I don't know what the "20" denotes.


Freshly cleaned.


I don't mean to brag, but that is one nice-looking bowel.


Want to keep my ass with you all day? Check out these new AIM Buddy Icons!

And now: ANIMATED!


Come see me and my magical ass in Tulsa on Sunday at the Nightingale Theatre! Me and a bunch of other comics, probably start at 8:00pm and probably cost $5.00.

I See The Sky Above Me Like A Full Recovery

Fifteen years ago, I was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease. It was right around this time of year, actually. It started right before Valentine's Day, with some symptoms that I won't enumerate here, and ended up taking (as I recall) two months of fever, pain and fear to diagnose. I was thirteen years old at the time.

I try not define myself by negative space, but that was my childhood trauma and that was what informed my adolescence. That's what turned me into who I am today. If you think back, you'll find that moment when the ground just fell away beneath you, when you realized that Mom and Dad were not all-powerful, and that the world wouldn't stop because something shitty happened to you. I almost feel like my life was split in two at that point. There's a thirteen-year-old me, stuck forever in the fear and pain of that time, and another me that was born the day I found out what was wrong with my body and what I could do to fix it.

I can't help but remember that bifurcation each spring.

I absolutely love spring. Springtime in Oklahoma makes the rest of the year tolerable. I have yet to see anything in this world as beautiful and terrible as the sky in March, April, and May. This dark, soft grayness just hangs in the sky, blotting out the world for miles in the middle of the day and the sun, no longer the harsh and angular tormentor of the winter months, falls soft and warmly upon the deep green of cross-timber foliage. It is birth, it is strength, it is verdant and beautiful. I've never missed a springtime in Oklahoma in 28 years. I try not to dwell on the death and destruction that follows so swiftly after that plush gray curtain in the distance.

But spring has held another meaning for me for the past fifteen years. Spring and Autumn are the times when I'm most likely to fall ill now. Maybe it's allergens in the air, maybe it's the changing temperatures. Who knows? For whatever reason, these seasons come tinged with dread. Will this be the year that I lose my colon? Will this be the year that my body no longer responds to my medication? Who knows? The thing about a chronic condition is that it's, well, chronic. I will never experience a full recovery. The condition I'm in, and I'm freakin' ecstatic about my condition, is the best that I will ever get. I will never wake up and suddenly not have Crohn's Disease. There will never be a year when I see that first wall cloud off in the distance without feeling a pang of fear.

We all have trauma, and triggers that bring us back to that pain. Maybe it's the book you were reading when you found out your Grandmother had died. Maybe it's song you sang right before the car crash. Maybe it's the lotion that Buffalo Bob made you use. Who knows?

I do know that the thirteen-year-old me is utterly useless at this time of year. He's nothing but fear and self-pity. But fifteen-year-old Seth is a different story entirely. He's handling things a lot better than he used to. And he's getting better at it every year.