Whipped Into a Frenzy

Today my husband had a colonoscopy and boy was it annoying for me. The worst thing is that when I have my own colonoscopy, which I have to do every four years, it is also annoying for me. Yesterday was the prep day, more commonly known as the Night of Horrors, so I ran out in the morning to get the ice pops and the Gatorade and the Dulcolax and the Miralax and the Jello and the apple juice and the bouillon. Last night seemed less horrible than usual because the Democratic National Convention was on TV, with Joe Biden and the rest of the bunch offering substantial amounts of hysteria to drown out Mitch's groans. This morning I drove the cranky patient to his procedure and opted to wait there, since I was told it would take about an hour.

Suddenly there I was in the dreaded Waiting Room. Magazines were arrayed on a low coffee table, but none of them were to my liking. I finally caved in and opted for WebMD to see if there were any diseases I might have that I don't know about. Then I perused TIME and read about how the Orthodox Jews and the plain Jews hate one another and are warring over control of an Israeli suburb. Then there were only a few minutes left, or so I thought until a nurse came to tell me that they were "running late" and actually were just starting, and it would be an hour from right then, in case I wanted to go run an errand or something. Another hour? Why didn't anyone tell me? Anyway, it was now just an hour and not enough time to do anything so again I waited, and then after an hour I went to the desk and asked if Mitch were finished yet and they said, no it would be another 45 minutes, and then it was really much more than that because we had to wait for the doctor to talk to us and he was busy with another procedure that was also--big surprise-- running late.

Although I am not the type to buy a gun or hold a gun or even look at a gun--in fact, if I were in the same room with a gun, which has never happened, I would leave immediately--I am definitely the type to get royally pissed off in certain situations. I might even become "disgruntled" enough to go on one of those rampages that are so popular lately, and I might start at the Portland Gastroenterology Center. Only instead of a gun I would go over there with some of those cans of string from ToysRUs, or, even better, a case of Reddi-Wip canisters, and spray them all until I felt better. Is that wrong?