Turning 50 is a milestone in many ways I suppose.
It’s the half century mark.
It’s the start of a new decade.
It’s the new 30.
It’s also the point in one’s life when certain things occur.
You become eligible for AARP membership.
You enter a new age group when competing in races.
You have a colonoscopy.
Wait …. did I really just say that?
Yes I did and due to this “procedure,” I did not run on Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday.
Several of my fellow 50 and over friends assured me the procedure itself was no big deal It’s the preparations of the day before which are really crappy. They were correct as after drinking what might best be described as 3 ounces of plutonium enriched colon blow, the only running I did on Monday was repeatedly to the john.
The next morning I awoke in a foul mood.
I was very hungry as Monday’s limited intake of “clear liquids” did not quite keep pace with the mass exodus which took place. I was also anxious over the pending Fantastic Voyage which was about to occur and I was undecided on who to vote for. (I didn’t particularly like either candidate. Both ran sh***y campaigns.)
Around noon, I “reported in”, donned a strikingly handsome hospital gown, received an IV and began the pre-op litany of medical history questions all beginning with, “Have you ever had” or “Do you now have”.
“No,” I replied to each one.
With this monotonous task complete, I was then wheeled into the procedure room where I received an injection described by the nurse as “pain killer and joy juice”. As he plunged the hypo with the magical elixir into my vein, I asked if the drugs were fast acting.
“You tell me,” he said.
If I replied at all, I’m unaware as the next conscious thought I had was that of being shaken awake by what turned out to be a persistent nurse in the recovery room. I apparently do not wake easily when a near coma has been induced and so after a bit, she pulled me up, removed the strikingly handsome hospital gown and dressed me like a child. I vaguely remember this and will most likely need therapy as a result.
They then placed me in a chair and as I vacillated between totally unconscious to moderately aware of my surroundings, Beth came in with the Doctor who proceeded to give a play by play account of the “journey” and it’s resulting revelations, all of which were lost on me.
Beth tells me his report was very good in that nothing was found and as a result, I would not be subjected to a repeat of today’s events for another 10 years. At that point in my drug induced state, she said I asked the doctor if that meant I was a perfect a**hole to which he tactfully replied that he could only confirm I had a perfect a**hole. (My friend Don Musgrove relayed that comment to me some weeks before and I guess it was stuck in my subconscious just waiting for the opportunity to be used.)
I was then helped to the car, taken home and put to bed where I remained until around 8 pm. I then got up, had a light dinner (non-liquid) and then very soon, went back to bed.
The next morning (Wednesday), I got up early thinking I would go for a run that is until I walked down the steps and realized I was still significantly impacted by the previous day’s “joy juice”. I did go to work but frankly, I felt out of sorts all day and ended up going to bed early that evening.
At 3:30 this morning, I awoke and could not go back to sleep so after tossing and turning for 45 minutes, I got up, got dressed and ran for 6 miles. Boy did that feel good!
In hind sight, this wasn’t a difficult procedure at all and since cancer of the colon is the third leading type of cancer in males and fourth in females, it is not only recommended but in fact, essential.
Look at it this way; if nothing else, for at least a few days, no one can tell you you’re full of crap!
“Health is not valued till sickness comes.” – Thomas Fuller
It’s the half century mark.
It’s the start of a new decade.
It’s the new 30.
It’s also the point in one’s life when certain things occur.
You become eligible for AARP membership.
You enter a new age group when competing in races.
You have a colonoscopy.
Wait …. did I really just say that?
Yes I did and due to this “procedure,” I did not run on Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday.
Several of my fellow 50 and over friends assured me the procedure itself was no big deal It’s the preparations of the day before which are really crappy. They were correct as after drinking what might best be described as 3 ounces of plutonium enriched colon blow, the only running I did on Monday was repeatedly to the john.
The next morning I awoke in a foul mood.
I was very hungry as Monday’s limited intake of “clear liquids” did not quite keep pace with the mass exodus which took place. I was also anxious over the pending Fantastic Voyage which was about to occur and I was undecided on who to vote for. (I didn’t particularly like either candidate. Both ran sh***y campaigns.)
Around noon, I “reported in”, donned a strikingly handsome hospital gown, received an IV and began the pre-op litany of medical history questions all beginning with, “Have you ever had” or “Do you now have”.
“No,” I replied to each one.
With this monotonous task complete, I was then wheeled into the procedure room where I received an injection described by the nurse as “pain killer and joy juice”. As he plunged the hypo with the magical elixir into my vein, I asked if the drugs were fast acting.
“You tell me,” he said.
If I replied at all, I’m unaware as the next conscious thought I had was that of being shaken awake by what turned out to be a persistent nurse in the recovery room. I apparently do not wake easily when a near coma has been induced and so after a bit, she pulled me up, removed the strikingly handsome hospital gown and dressed me like a child. I vaguely remember this and will most likely need therapy as a result.
They then placed me in a chair and as I vacillated between totally unconscious to moderately aware of my surroundings, Beth came in with the Doctor who proceeded to give a play by play account of the “journey” and it’s resulting revelations, all of which were lost on me.
Beth tells me his report was very good in that nothing was found and as a result, I would not be subjected to a repeat of today’s events for another 10 years. At that point in my drug induced state, she said I asked the doctor if that meant I was a perfect a**hole to which he tactfully replied that he could only confirm I had a perfect a**hole. (My friend Don Musgrove relayed that comment to me some weeks before and I guess it was stuck in my subconscious just waiting for the opportunity to be used.)
I was then helped to the car, taken home and put to bed where I remained until around 8 pm. I then got up, had a light dinner (non-liquid) and then very soon, went back to bed.
The next morning (Wednesday), I got up early thinking I would go for a run that is until I walked down the steps and realized I was still significantly impacted by the previous day’s “joy juice”. I did go to work but frankly, I felt out of sorts all day and ended up going to bed early that evening.
At 3:30 this morning, I awoke and could not go back to sleep so after tossing and turning for 45 minutes, I got up, got dressed and ran for 6 miles. Boy did that feel good!
In hind sight, this wasn’t a difficult procedure at all and since cancer of the colon is the third leading type of cancer in males and fourth in females, it is not only recommended but in fact, essential.
Look at it this way; if nothing else, for at least a few days, no one can tell you you’re full of crap!
“Health is not valued till sickness comes.” – Thomas Fuller
2 comments:
Really? 50 is the new 30?
Thank GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I can go back in time! I have 7 years before that happens but now I am not so worried about it!!
Believe it my friend!
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