Stuck kitchen drain

Monday is as good a day as any to get probed. So off I went to the gastroenterologist, where the dreaded colonoscopy was performed. Since I was there, I thought maybe I’d have them check out the other end, too. One stop service. I’ve had a good deal of difficulty swallowing foods, even liquids sometimes get backed up—kind of like a stuck kitchen drain. When this happens, a good deal of gurgling takes place, people turn and stare, only adding to my discomfiture. It is not pleasant. The kindly doctor came to me after the procedure, told me that my esophagus was constricted to the point where he couldn’t pass his instrument through.
“Well, that explains a lot,” I said.
He prescribed an acid blocker, said I should take it twice a day, since the condition seems to be related to extreme acid reflux. He said that things didn’t look cancerous, but that obviously I should have a larger passage to allow for normal eating and passage of foods. I said okay. Likewise, down below, things looked normal there. Big relief, as the preparation for this procedure is nothing short of hideous. No eating for twenty-four hours, liquids only, then a twice-daily dose of stuff to get everything cleared out—if you catch my drift. That stuff alone takes away your appetite, makes the thought of food so unappealing, that—well, never mind.

So, drugged and groggy, I came home—driven by my brother. Now I am allowed only liquid foods after this procedure. Not sure why, but I am following the doctor’s instructions. I was actually looking forward to some beef enchiladas from the new Mexican place I just tried over in Columbia. I think they’re swell. The nurse asked me what I had in mind to eat, as I was dressing to leave.
“Well, I want some enchiladas,” I said.
“Oh, no, no, no! No enchiladas for you!” She went on to say that if I liked yoghurt, this would be a good time to have some.
“I love yoghurt,” I said. “I’ll go home and eat a lot of it.”
So I sat in bed, watched some stories on the midday programming offered by the television, ate ice cream and yoghurt, and had some soup as well. I had no discomfort after the procedure. Oh—another thing: If you have the endoscopy procedure, you have to drink a thick goo of foul-tasting stuff that is supposed to numb your throat. This happens right before they turn out the lights and administer anesthesia. Skip the endoscopy, unless there is some problem up top.

So after a while I tired of being abed, got up to see what was doing outdoors. The excavator man called, asked if tomorrow would be a good time to come out and start ripping up the patio area. I told him that I’d been sidetracked with the sidewalk project, that Wednesday would be better. This will give me a chance to go out and dismantle the rest of the strange and ugly aluminum landing that someone erected out back. It is truly horrible. So, late this afternoon, I gathered up my power saws and went to cut away some more of the landing. I concentrated on the steps, since they are a separate part, can be taken away without causing the whole thing to collapse. The excavator man agreed, said okay to Wednesday.

Here, then, is a tribute to the horribleness of the strange aluminum landing. I take the thing as personal affront.

Refuser of all beauty
On spindly legs
Built by hairy chests
Nourished on kegs

“Let’s build something like that!”
Enthused a doof
Came his cohorts sliding
One by one off the roof

We’ll drink to its start!
We’ll drink to its middle!
Hey, I cut a fart!
Now I’ve got to piddle!

So they drank and they built
Screwed it all together
Upon its thin stilts
Worked through the fair weather

“Looks like prison,” said one
“Maybe a factory,” another
“Oil refinery.”
This one was his brother

Sure is something
They all agreed
Slapped each other’s backs
Smoked some weed

Then they got in the Dodge
Another beer run
It’s Ernie’s turn
That’s Jake’s sister’s son

Back at the thing
They swept with a broom
The tiny platform
Shit! There’s not enough room!