I hate Gatorade. Or I should say I hate drinking massive quantities of Gatorade laced with Miralax in one sitting—the not-so-delightful preparation for my recent colonoscopy. It’s a lifesaving exam, yes, but the pre-test regimen is intense.

Doctor’s orders started with a low-residue diet three days before the procedure. Translation: a special shopping trip for everything nutritionists usually tell you to avoid. White bread, white pasta, white rice—anything processed and devoid of fiber. No fresh veggies or fruit, no whole grains, no nuts, no seeds, no legumes. According to WebMD, this limits the amount of undigested food in your colon, allowing the intestines to rest.

The day before, the real fun begins. Liquid diet only and four Dulcolax laxatives at 2 p.m., followed by a Gatorade-Miralax cocktail marathon at 4 p.m. Sixty-four ounces in two hours. That’s eight glasses of that repugnant sweet drink! Eight glasses! (This cleans you out so the doctor will have better visibility.)

And just when you think you’ve endured the worst, five hours before the procedure, it’s rinse and repeat. Another half-gallon, another two-hour countdown.

For me, that meant starting my day at 6:30 a.m., choking down the last drops of neon green liquid through sheer willpower. At 8:30 a.m., just as I took my last sip, my phone rang.

“I just swallowed the last drop!” I answered jovially, assuming it was a reminder call.

“Hi, Roslyn,” chirped Evelyn, the receptionist. “Actually, I was calling to tell you that Dr. Smith had a family emergency, so we have to reschedule. I have an opening tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I screamed. “I just drank all that stuff! There’s no way I can do this again. No way! You have to get me in today!”

I pleaded, ranted and cried, unleashing every ounce of desperation on poor Evelyn. She promised to do her best and hung up quickly, probably scared that I might truly be losing it.

Normally, I’m pretty good at rolling with the punches. “Everything happens for a reason” is my motto. But come on—rescheduling a teeth cleaning is one thing, but a colonoscopy? Now that’s just downright crappy! 

I sat there, stunned, clutching the phone like a lifeline. The minutes crawled by. What if Evelyn didn’t call back? What if I’d scared her off? I even considered cold-calling other gastroenterologists, hoping someone had a last-minute opening. After all, I was primed and ready to go. 

The phone rang. I held my breath. “Yes?” I answered.

“We can get you in at 4,” Evelyn announced triumphantly.

“Bless you, Evelyn!” I exclaimed. “Thank you so much!” 

I didn’t even care that I couldn’t eat or drink anything for the next eight hours.

When I arrived at the office, Sylvia greeted me warmly, not at all surprised that Evelyn had come through for me. She assured me that in over 20 years, their office had never closed during operating hours—not even during a historic snowstorm.

Sylvia recounted how, during that blizzard, worried patients called to confirm their appointments before drinking their Gatorade cocktail. True to their word, the office stayed open, even enlisting the help of the local fire department to transport patients who couldn’t drive themselves.

I was whisked into a room buzzing with efficient activity, attended by a team of competent young professionals. I felt comfortable and safe.

Dr. Mann introduced himself with a calm confidence that put me at ease, even as he outlined the potential risks. 

As they wheeled me into the procedure room, Dr. Mann accidentally bumped the gurney into a wall, quipping, “Don’t worry, I’m a much better doctor than a driver.” Minutes later, I woke up in recovery.

Everything had gone smoothly. As I rested, a young woman peeked into the room, introducing herself as a barista—yes, a barista! This gastroenterology center has its own coffee shop—the Bottoms Up Café. 

Scanning the menu, there were so many choices. Should I get a Starbutts Steamer (espresso with foamed milk), or a Derriere Delight, a cozy tea with milk or honey? Maybe a Moon Me Mocha would hit the spot.

I settled on a Get Up and Go hot chocolate with steamed milk. Moments later, my barista returned with the perfectly prepared drink and a tray of snacks. 

What had started as a day from hell ended with a brewed awakening that felt like a little slice of heaven on earth.