I’ve noticed in my last few college reunions that my classmates are getting older. By induction, that means I am, too.
No matter how I try to deny it, I am just as old as they are, and I have my short but growing list of physical infirmities, like the shoulder that hasn’t been the same since that time I tried to stop a barrel full of wood scraps from falling off the tailgate of the pickup truck (five years ago). A sprained knee that was helped, but not cured, by a cortisone shot also put a hole in my “forever young” psyche.
Yesterday, I had my second round of another of life’s lessons on the impending humiliations of aging. I had a colonoscopy. While I can’t be nearly as funny as Dave Barry in telling you to get one, I do have the news from a college classmate to drive me to the MoviPrep torture.
I was feeling pretty responsible, having gotten my first internal movie taken at the age of 51, but my former roommate just got around to having his. Two days later he was in surgery having a tumor removed. He had no clue it was there. They think they got it all, but nothing is sure when it comes to the big ‘C’.
Needless to say, it didn’t take me long to calculate that it had been more than five years since my last check for colon irregularities.
Given how many of my other physical systems have lost their competitive edge over that time, I knew I had to deal with it. The prep is the worst part, and there’s no getting around it.
I saw proof positive how bad the prep is when I went to the endoscopy clinic for my appointment. Doctors and nurses were coming in late, and the roads were horrible, with a fresh coating of snow, ice and sleet. Not one patient had canceled. Everybody was there on time, or early. No wonder. There’s no way I’d want to prep for the procedure and then not have it.
So, if this hasn’t convinced those of you that have passed the half century mark to get ‘er done, read Dave Barry’s hilarious description. After wiping the tears of laughter from your eyes, call your doctor and set it up.