Dear Blog Reader;
I hope that this finds you doing well. I am doing pretty
well and in a surprisingly upbeat mood in spite of the surprising six inch snow
on Friday, followed by the light dusting one inch snow last night. I feel like
we have been retrained; our sense of disaster has been reset. A six inch snow
last December would have sent the weather persons to the cameras and the reporters
to the street and the dairy aisle to cover the stories of human suffering.
Mayor Ballard would rush to the camera, closing the city government; explaining
how difficult it would be to clear the roads in these awful conditions. Friday
came; six inches fell, and we turned our coat collars up and went about our
lives. I hope that we have finally hit our emotional nadir and are ready to
enjoy a glorious spring.
This week has seen the passing of a milestone for me. I try
not to use the word milestone lightly. It struck me that there are few
milestones that come around at the age of 51. Earlier in my life they whizzed
by the window at amazing speed. I could drive at 16, vote at 18, and drink at
21; three in five years and then nothing for 30 years. You could point out that
graduation, marriage, children, are milestones also. However, those are events
that are not universal. Many people miss some or all of these and many other
milestones in the pursuit of their full and rewarding lives. I am pointing to
the American universal milestones. I believe that driving, voting, drinking and
the colonoscopy at age 50 and death are the big five. Actually, it is the big
one milestone and four God willing milestones.
As I approach the age that my father passed in a farming
accident, I compare my experiences to my father’s experiences. Soon, I will be
on my own; no memories of dad’s reactions to events for guidance. The
colonoscopy is a milestone that falls into the same category. Dad was old
enough to have received a colonoscopy. However, the world wasn’t old enough.
Fiber optics was in its infancy when dad was fifty. Back then, they would have
had to go up in there with a flashlight and a camcorder. While it is the large
intestine, it wasn’t that large and the entrance is pretty small. Thinking
about it there are now two common procedures that reveal two parts of the human
anatomy that were uncharted territory 28 years ago; the pregnant woman’s womb
and the fifty year old man’s colon.
The ultrasound came into vogue in the two years between our
son’s and daughter’s birth. There was no medical need for filming Ben. Grace also
had no need, but by that time anxious parents could pony up a couple of hundred
bucks for a landscape portrait of the moon that the doctor and technician swore
was a perfect little girl. Thankfully, ultrasound technology has improved
through the years. Last week, I saw a
picture on Facebook that described their beautiful daughter and how her foot
was prominent each of the pictures. The pictures were so pristine that I could
actually see the Nike Swoosh.
Just as the ultrasound has revealed the mysteries of the
womb, the sex of our children and fewer baby shower gift returns, fiber optics
have given more 50 year old Americans diarrhea than bad fish at Chuck’s sushi
buffet. Everyone told me that the procedure isn’t that bad. It’s the prep,
which is stupid. The prep is part of the procedure. Just like grilling is part
of the eating steak procedure, prepping for a colonoscopy is part of the
colonoscopy procedure.
I don’t know about you but I have a really hard time
breaking something just to see if it works. It is counterintuitive. I have a very
fine functioning intestinal system. There is no need to mess it up to see if it
is broken. It is not broken. I can eat beets, greens, hamburgers, all sorts of
things and a few hours later everything comes out just like it should. It ain’t
broke so don’t try to fix it.
Sure, I had a terrible habit when I was in elementary school
of eating mimeograph fluid soaked paper. Surely that stuff was carcinogenic. It
smelled carcinogenic. Don’t ask. I have no idea why. Some kids ate paste. I ate
paper. Those were simpler times. Maybe I thought I was a goat. Who knows? I ate
paper. I ate a lot of paper. Me and my buddies used to have races in the back
of the room to see who could eat the times table fastest and then have to blame
the dog the next day when we couldn’t turn in our homework. So theoretically, I
get it. My 2nd grade spelling test could have lodged someplace down
there and festered over the years, leaching mimeo fluid into the lining of my
large intestine leaving a polyp producing time bomb waiting to detonate. But
why worry about the improbable?
I was able to postpone the inevitable last year at my annual
check up. “Why are you here,” the doctor asked. “As I near fifty, I figured
that I needed to get a baseline established,” was my answer. Thankfully, the
doctor was running late and did not check the chart carefully. When I got home,
the lovely Miss Beverly asked when my colonoscopy would be scheduled. She
remembered that I was fifty last year. I shrugged and said that doctor didn’t
say any thing about a colonoscopy. I am in pretty good health. “I suppose fifty
is a guideline.”
This year rolled around. My annual check up was scheduled. I
lied about my birthday on the check in form 6/22/64. Damned governmental
intrusion, that date didn’t match up to my computer records and if I wanted the
insurance to pay for the visit, I had to come clean; 6/22/62. I was a year
late. The big procedure and its prep were scheduled 3 days later.
I will not go into the gruesome details. I dutifully drank
both helpings of intestine grenade. It detonated perfectly. After the first
one, I admit that I wondered why they couldn’t just put windshield wipers on
the camera. We put men on the moon once upon a time. Miniature windshield
wipers shouldn’t be that difficult. The other thing that caused me to chuckle
was the following exchange. At one point, the admit nurse told me, “if we poke
through the bowel, we will rush you to emergency surgery.” A couple of minutes later, the nurse said,
“You look worried.” I pointed out to her that she just told me that “if we poke
through the bowel, we will rush you to emergency surgery.”
In the end, (pun intended) I have the colon of a twenty year
old and I have the pictures to prove it. I am thinking of posting on Facebook.
It may make my Facebook movie. A twenty year old colon is important. I need a
twenty year old colon when I am 51 to reach the 150 year milestone. (My blog;
On the Launching Pad; 6/24/2012).
So I that’s that; the first of 9 more is done. Actually,
upon further reflection, I may skip that last one and see what happens.
Take care,
Roger.
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