Today I’d like to share with you a recent experience I had that is, to say the least, very delicate to discuss. While you all will probably experience this fifteen to 20 years from now, my hope is that medical technology will advance enough to improve upon the unpleasantness factor of what I am about to discuss with you. I have already seen forward-moving changes since my first run-in with this “adventure.” (Puns are intentional) Let me expand upon this.
After the age of fifty, every ten years or less depending upon your genetics or previous experience, the medical world has advised that we all have a colonoscopy. Since I have already lost two very dear friends to colon cancer, I have reluctantly acquiesced to this recommendation.
One must schedule at least a day and a half on your calendar, so I would suggest a Monday appointment. Day 1 is a time for cleansing, and I don’t mean sitting in a room with soothing music on your playlist so you can purify your soul and mind.
Rather, we are purging our colon—if you get my drift—via consuming nothing but Jell-o, chicken broth, certain beverages from a prescribed list (coffee, tea, juice, water, Gatorade, or lemonade), and a special potion.
Ten years ago the potion was a magic powder of unknown origin mixed into a gallon of water, which had to be consumed in prescribed amounts over a very small time period. It tasted awful and was quite difficult to endure over such a short span of time.
Well, times have changed, and now the prep is merely two 10-ounce bottles of an only semi-awful liquid preceded by some pills. Then you watch television, read a book, or do anything else that does not expend many calories because you will be famished. In approximately six hours you will be doing a great cardio-workout, which involves much running at warped speed toward the ladies lounge.
I am grateful that my hip was in tip-top shape for the cardio component of Day 1 because time was of the essence.
Day 2 was a breeze. I was administered a wonderful sleepy-time dosage of propranolol by an anesthesiologist named Bo. Before I could snap my fingers, Dad was by my side informing me that I will not need to return for another ten years. It is my deep hope that technology has improved enough to enable the results by something less invasive, such as an ultrasound, and that Day 1 will be filled with much less running and a tastier magic potion. That is my wish to you and to me.
I concluded my morning with a lovely breakfast of eggs Benedict, coffee, and fruit.