A.K.A. The Time I got a High Colonic & Ran into George Hamilton the orangest man in all of Hollywood
I was recently going through my Google Analytics reports and noticed one of my more visited posts was a personal story I called “This Whole Being an Adult Thing is Difficult Alone“.
In the interest of adding new social commentary content to try and better stimulate organic web traffic I decided to start writing more posts outside of my niche. So without further adieu, the one about the time I went for a high colonic and ended up running into George Hamilton.
A little background
From 1998 to 2001 I lived in Los Angeles. More specifically, I lived in downtown Hollywood just off Hollywood Blvd and Cherokee. I’d initially moved out to stay in several artist colonies but ended up getting a job in the web industry that sparked the career that I maintain today. However, this post isn’t about my origin story so much as it is the one and only time to date that I went in for hydrotherapy.
So I digress..
I had a friend that told me about a trip he took to his friendly neighborhood hydrotherapist. He was an actor who was always looking to shave off a few ounces here and there. At any rate, he went off on how good it made him feel after having it done. He said he slept better, had more energy and felt overall better in general. In fact, his sister who had turned him onto the whole idea of cleansing had done it a month prior and was melting pounds off since.
As a career insomniac, this very much appealed to my exhausted side. I’d been averaging 3-4 hours of sleep a night at the time and was intrigued by the idea of catching more Z’s even if it meant I had to have my soul irrigated.
So I performed my due diligence and Googled colonic facts to see what I was getting into. I found a laundry list of advantages including weight-loss, a decrease in fatigue, cancer benefits, sleep aide as well as a number of people saying to steer clear of the process all-together. In fact.
Colonic irrigation has been described as an “unwise” procedure as it carries the risk of serious harm and has no proven benefit. (Wikipedia)
So naturally I did it
For those of you not familiar with the process I’ll briefly outline how it works here. Essentially, when you go in for hydrotherapy or a “colonic” you see a specialist who fills your large bowel with pressurized water in order to remove impacted fecal matter, undigested materials and “toxins” from your system. This is done by inserting a long clear tube in your holiest of holies. The tube is hooked up to a pump that diverts the water into the bowel. During the colonic water is pumped into the colon and repeated until the bowel is vacated.
Here’s where this post get’s categorized as TMI. You’ve been warned.
Now what they don’t tell you about this process is…
When the water is evacuated from your body the tube passes in front of a lighted panel so the hydrotherapist can look for hidden treasure I guess. No, I was told by my therapist that they could tell a number of things about your diet by seeing what passed in front of the light. Things like what foods you had a hard time digesting, whether or not you had a lot of impacted material, whether you had what looked like possible bowel obstructions and other lies. What do I know? But it sounded legitimate enough at the time.
A Quick Word on Toxins for Dr. Drew
Dr. Drew: I’m not sure what these so called toxins are supposed to be, but suffice it to say I did feel a lot better after having this procedure done. It aided in weight loss, curbed frequent heartburn bouts, helped me sleep, gave me more energy, helped clear up my skin and left me with an overall sense of well-being. I know it sounds flighty and new-age, but being a long-time Loveline listener since the late 90’s I felt it necessary to include this short diatribe. I have no idea what these toxins are either Drew, but they feel a lot better out than in.
B-Day? E-Day?? D-Day???
The day had finally arrived for my internal rooting. I apprehensively shuffled into the office I was referred to. The specialist’s lab was in a tiny building. Inside the tiny building was a tiny office with a number of doors that surrounded a small reception area.In this tiny reception area was a diminutive, very attractive, red-headed receptionist. She was nice and inviting and used to making people feel at ease given the nature of her business.
After a short wait, I was ushered into a room about 10 feet from where I was just sitting. I was greeted by the therapist, a tiny foreign woman of indiscriminate nationality. After running down the gameplay of what was to come she got to the getting.
The first round of pressurized water went in like she was quickly filling up the world’s worst smelling water balloon. The pressure in my guts was more than I thought it was going to be, but nothing unmanageable at first. She would fill me up and then wait. For what I’m not entirely sure..*cough* SICKO *cough*, but when she opened the outdoor a brown rainbow illuminated the lighted tube.
She repeated the process 4 more times. Each time the pressure was a little more than the first. When it came to the final rinse she filled me with what felt like gallons of previously untarnished H20.
Once removed there was an immediate sense of urgency to walk about 3 feet to the bathroom adjacent to the lab I was in. Of course, the therapist, took, this time, to tell me too many facts about the procedure I’d just had.
I heard not one word she said. I was seeing brown like I’d before even in my sickest of hours.
When she finally left the room I gently eased myself off the deli paper lined table and cautiously rambled to the lavatory. I walked with the concentration of a soldier navigating a mine field. Each step I took I was sure I was going to unleash the a bouncing brown betty. I was desperately holding back the Rorschach Test trapped inside me from the parquet.
I barely made it into the bathroom when a fury of a thousand agitated coffee beans exploded from deep within my soul. It was cathartic! It was life-changing. In my mind, I saw the furnace of the universe before my eyes. The very cradle of civilization appeared to me in a hallucinated realization. I felt all of the badness that had been building up in me for years escaping in one last fiery, vengeful farewell.
And it was loud.
Far louder than I’d intended. Far too loud. And then I realized all that separated me from the cute red-haired secretary in the waiting room was a flimsy hallow-core door. A door no thicker than 2 dimes stacked on top of each other.
As I tried to sneak out of this impossibly embarrassing situation I was greeted by none other than actor George Hamilton who was next in line. We made obvious eye contact with each other. He was sitting in the lobby and didn’t speak a word as I passed him by. This was either a totally normal occurrence or he’d be high-tailing it the second I walked out the door. I’d never had known as I tore out of the clinic so fast I’m lucky no one was hit.
I hope he didn’t get the same room as I did because…I left a tell-tale trail. Yeah gross I know, but the butt has it’s pressurized limitations.
Thanks for comic timing George and I’m truly sorry for any foot related fungus/ infections you may have incurred. Please feel free to contact my club for complete enumeration. My name is spelled A-N-D-Y D-I-C-K. Once again I’m terribly sorry for any incontinence inconvenience.
Pictures from Hollywood Blvd 2016
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