Okay . . . I am “man” enough to admit
it . . . I wimped out of my colonoscopy.
According to the Mayo Clinic staff a colonoscopy “is an exam used to
detect changes or abnormalities in the large intestine (colon) and rectum. During a colonoscopy, a long, flexible tube
(colonoscope) is inserted into the rectum. A tiny video camera at the tip of
the tube allows the doctor to view the inside of the entire colon. If necessary, polyps or other types of
abnormal tissue can be removed through the scope during a colonoscopy. Tissue
samples (biopsies) can be taken during a colonoscopy as well.” Just the way I envisioned spending a Friday
afternoon . . . being probed by an invasive tube up my bum while it is all
being recorded by a mini-video camera for future prosperity . . . well, at
least I hope it is a miniature video camera as a full-sized one would really,
really hurt!
The suggestion is that starting at age
fifty a person should get a colonoscopy once every five years . . . I am
nearing the age of 57. I have yet to
have my first colonoscopy despite the annual grilling by my doctor to have it
done. I must admit the doctor is pretty
persistent . . . pretty patient, too . . . while calmly suggesting it each time
I pop in for my annual check-up. It is
working as I have been weakening over the years and actually agreed to schedule
one. It was scheduled for the end of
this week . . . on a Friday afternoon. I
canceled it . . . I mean, I postponed it . . . for late July. I was not ready for the gut check!
For the most part, I have to admit
that I did not give the colonoscopy much thought . . . until the last two
weeks. In the last two weeks it had
become a growing concern taking up more and more of my free time. Shoot!
It is practically springtime here in Montana and instead of thinking
about all the wonderful activities I could be doing in the nearby mountains, I
was thinking about a procedure to my body where no person had ever gone
before. Any sane person would have to
honestly admit that the mere mention of “colonoscopy” sends shivers up one’s
spine from the portal entrance in the southern hemisphere of the body. I know it did me. The more I thought about the more I began to
regret that the doctor had caught me in an agreeable mood . . . I didn’t want
anybody—especially a stranger—probing me with a mini-video camera no matter how
much they assured me that it was for the good of my health. It sounded invasive . . . uncomfortable . . .
and, even painful. It struck me as
undignified and embarrassing. Struck me
as being dirty in more ways than one.
So, I wimped out. Well, not completely . . . I did reschedule
for late July.
The wife was sympathetic . . . at
least she respected me enough to not snicker and laugh in my presence. No, she waited for me to turn my back. She had one done a little over a year
ago. Claims that it was not that
bad. I am not sure who she is
fooling. I was there . . . well, I wasn’t
actually there for the actual colonoscopy . . . but, I was there for everything
leading up to it and after it. It was
not a pleasant time.
I witnessed the pre-colonoscopy ritual
of depositing the suppository to get things moving. I watched as she drank the wonder drink that
set the bowels in motion. I saw how as
the evening progressed she moved closer and closer to the bathroom and the
throne. I remember being woke up all
through the night as she hurried to the bathroom . . . the sighs of relief . .
. and the cacophony that created a new name for the bathroom—Thunder Dome! It was not a walk in the park. The wife was not a happy camper especially
when this all took place after spending a day fasting.
One doesn’t easily erase such memories
from one’s mind.
Besides the invasiveness of the
procedure, I was not too thrilled with giving up eating for a whole day. Yes, I am sure that I have an ample supply of
nourishment stored on my body that I would easily survive a 24-hour period
without food . . . my body would survive; but, my mind thought otherwise. Such thoughts were not bolstering my will to
get on with the procedure. It made me
hungry just thinking about it. I hate
being hungry even for a good cause like my health!
Then after a day of fasting the only
thing that I get is a suppository . . . and, lots of yucky fluids to drink . .
. all for the purpose of creating a riot to get my bowels moving. I have heard my bowels when they are not happy
. . . it is a scary sound that rumbles out and often signals bad things. This part of the pre-procedure is meant to
waken these sleeping giants to expel all that waste. It is an endless parade of farting and
pooping until a person can no longer fart or poop. Well, I have never had much trouble with
either one . . . I can do it with the best of them. But . . . NO . . . the doctor wants to help
clean out the ol’ pipes. Charmin tissues
ain’t even going to bring much comfort to this scenario . . . hungry, farting,
and pooping . . . sounds like a Saturday morning from my college days living
with five other guys.
That right there was enough to bring
apprehension towards my waning willingness to go through with the
colonoscopy. Yet, everyone kept telling
me that it would be okay because they put you under for the procedure . . . a
person doesn’t remember anything. A
little gas and the next thing you remember is the nurse encouraging you to pass
a little gas before you can go home. I
do not do well with anesthesiology. In
previous surgeries I have caught pneumonia, near-pneumonia, and extra time in
the hospital. Plus I have had to endure
the stories about the silly things that I have said to the doctor, the nurses,
and my wife . . . seems I am quite entertaining when knocked out. Going under is not one of my favorite things
. . . and, who knows what they do when a person is knocked out. Makes me shudder whenever I think about it.
So, I wimped out . . . called and
rescheduled. The wife understood,
despite trying to keep a straight face and suppressing her giggles. The nurse on the other end of the line understood
even though I could hear her muffling the phone to hide her laughter. The doctor probably figured that it would get
him out on the golf course that much sooner . . . and, that he would eventually
get me . . . somewhere down the line, he would get me. At this moment it is a relief for me . . . a
huge pain in the rear removed for the time being. I am sure I will be embarrassed about wimping
out down the road . . . probably even feel guilty about not taking it like a “man”. But, for me it made sense . . . it was a
relief.
I can joke about it. I have been told that a person has to have a
sense of humor about colonoscopies. Others before me have. Here are a few of the things they had to say
to their doctors about the whole procedure:
- · "Take it easy, Doc. You're boldly going where no man has gone
before!"
- · "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"
- · "You know, in Arkansas, we're now legally married."
- · “You put your left hand in, you take your left hand out..."
- · "Hey! Now I know how a Muppet feels!"
- · "Hey Doc, let me know if you find my dignity."
And, my favorite one:
- · "Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head is not up
there.”
Confession is good for the soul . . .
this confession was good for my rear . . . at least for another couple of
months. So, bring it on. All of you colonoscopy veterans, bring it
on. Hit me with your best shot . . . I
can take it. It beats starving one’s
self for a day, planting a suppository, drinking yucky stuff, and spending a
whole night worshiping in the Thunder Dome farting and pooping before being
abruptly probed in an invasive procedure sure to bring nightmares in the days
and weeks to come. Go ahead, I can take
it.
Besides the day is coming. I can run, but I cannot hide. I told you, the doctor is patient and
persistent . . . he almost got me this time.
He senses the kill . . . my time is coming. Shoot, I feel a bilabial fricative even
now! And, I ain’t tooting my horn. The guts know that they will get me in the
end!
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