Along with age comes all sorts of 'benefits'. You get to fill your weeks with appointments for 'preventative' check-ups and procedures. One of my favorites is the colonoscopy. It's right up there with major dental surgery without the benefit of Novocain. After putting it off for 11+ years (it took that long to almost forget my first one), I was brow-beaten into having another yesterday. By far, the worst part is the prep. You also lose two days of your young life. I suffered through Wednesday and then was driven to the medical center early yesterday with a caffeine-withdrawal headache and a bad attitude. I will spare you the details because, you know, TMI.
The colonoscopist (or whatever they're called) was a rather charming older man with a well-practiced bedside manner. The nurses were adorable and we got into a lively discussion on all things poultry (one grew up on a dairy farm and the other has always had ducks). During the follow-up session, my true, adolescent colors shone true.
Doctor M. - "Because of the polyp (I had one small, lousy polyp) and your sister's polyps, you need to have this done every five years."
Me - "And who's going to make me? I won't be able to forget how much I hate it in five years. I can't take it. Who's idea was the prep work, anyway? The Marquis de Sade?"
Doctor M. - "See you in five years."
Me - "Don't forget to take a good picture, 'cause you ain't seeing it again..."
Doctor M. Eye roll.
I had a giant cup of coffee on the way home - which did have some calming effect on my nerves. Then I laid about the house and whined for a while. All under the watchful eyes of Nurse Lovey and Nurse Bert.
|Nurse Lovey keeping a safe distance|
until Mom's coffee kicks in.
|Mr. Knows Something is Up.|
|In my ready-made GF pie crust|
because I was recovering and faint and...