May 31 (surgery): 460 lbs.

Nov. 22: 389 lbs.

Total lost: 101 lbs.

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I don’t know if you’ve ever had a colonoscopy, but the day-before prep involves a hefty dose of stimulant laxatives around 1 p.m., more than three hours of slowly drinking 64 ounces of laxative-laced Gatorade and an uncanny and unnatural attachment to the toilet — the likes of which you’ve never had before in your life.

I don’t want to make this sound too glamorous. Otherwise, there may be a rush to get some hands-on colorectal screening.

It’s six hours of your day — if you are lucky — within an arm’s reach of the bathroom. Don’t forget to stockpile the toilet paper, say goodbye to your loved ones, shut the ringer off on your smartphone and binge watch your favorite TV series on Netflix as a distraction. Just be prepared to shower and throw out some underwear during or after the ordeal. And call a therapist when it’s over. It’s that traumatizing.

I knew the importance of this procedure. Time after time, I’ve seen videos of celebrities like actor Ryan Reynolds getting pushed down hospital corridors on gurneys as they record their first colonoscopy journeys — all to raise awareness of colon cancer.

It could save your life.

I’m 53 years old. I was overdue for the procedure. They used to say get a colonoscopy after turning 50, but it’s younger now. The American Cancer Society recommends that people at average risk of colorectal cancer begin regular screening at age 45.

Talking with some of my friends who’ve had colonoscopies, they said it was no big deal. A standard procedure. So I accepted that it was simply my turn to step up to the line, pick a number and wait for my name to be called. It was my turn to endure the two-hour hospital stay, no matter how embarrassed I felt about having a camera shoved up my butt.

I knew it was necessary; my twin brother Steve had a colonoscopy last year and had three precancerous polyps removed. I figured, with the same DNA, I needed to have this done.

Good thing, too. Dr. Michael Hill — the same man who did my bariatric surgery on May 31 and took out my damaged appendix last year — removed two polyps, a small one and most of a bigger one that he needs to finish removing in a couple of months.

Always looking for the silver lining on my weight-loss journey, I count my blessings that I’m finally regular again; I’d been plagued with constipation since my bariatric surgery. Since the colonoscopy, though … clean as a whistle.

Even though my friends downplayed the procedure, I was still nervous. One of the risks was continued bleeding after polyp removal. With the bleeding complications I’ve had in the past — as recently as June after my bariatric surgery — I was nervous. And rightfully so. I take anticoagulants, better known as blood thinners.

I wore my worry like a heavy winter coat the morning of my colonoscopy, Monday, Oct. 31 — Halloween. I’m not usually superstitious, but when I climbed into the driver’s seat before heading to the hospital for my 8 a.m. appointment, a black cat was sitting in front of the car. Then, as I arrived at the hospital, a nurse led me into the pre-op room — No. 13. I couldn’t help but wonder what was next. So I stayed away from ladders and mirrors and I was on the lookout for more superstitious signs, like three sixes.

But they never came.

I resumed taking blood thinners later in the day. The first day, no blood. Days two, three, four, five, six and seven — no blood. Then on day eight — blood. Day nine, a trip to the emergency room in Saranac Lake, just after midnight. Day 10, Dr. Hill took me off the blood thinners, and by day 12, I had stopped bleeding. I resumed taking blood thinners after four days of worrying that I’d get blood clots like I did five years ago.

But they never came.

I resumed taking blood thinners on Nov. 14, and still no bleeding. Knock on wood.

Two months from now, I go through the ordeal again, but no pre-day, colon-cleaning ritual, just a simple enema before the procedure to remove the rest of the larger polyp.

Here we go again. Step up to the line, pick a number and wait for my name to be called. I just hope the black cat stays away this time.