Peering Into the Darkness
By Robert Schwaninger
There
comes a time when you accept the fact you have reached middle age. For those who
don’t know when middle age starts, it’s when the creak when you get up is your
back not the chair and raw vegetables become the enemy. Not too many years ago
I had to realize that no one is going to ask my opinion about new music since I
wouldn’t know Kanye West from Mae West. In fact I was shocked to find out that
Fergie started a singing career after her Weight Watchers gig.
comes a time when you accept the fact you have reached middle age. For those who
don’t know when middle age starts, it’s when the creak when you get up is your
back not the chair and raw vegetables become the enemy. Not too many years ago
I had to realize that no one is going to ask my opinion about new music since I
wouldn’t know Kanye West from Mae West. In fact I was shocked to find out that
Fergie started a singing career after her Weight Watchers gig.
One
true sign of aging was noting that my life was more generously filled with lab-coated
people who let me rot in frosty, poorly decorated waiting rooms until they
finally get around to telling me that I need to be tested for a host of
maladies. I, being an All-American male, ignored all of this advice. My wife,
an intelligent and more evolved person who actually reads the Health section of
the newspaper, kept reminding me that I was “not getting any younger”—an unnecessary
revelation given that I have joints that sound like rusty hinges.
true sign of aging was noting that my life was more generously filled with lab-coated
people who let me rot in frosty, poorly decorated waiting rooms until they
finally get around to telling me that I need to be tested for a host of
maladies. I, being an All-American male, ignored all of this advice. My wife,
an intelligent and more evolved person who actually reads the Health section of
the newspaper, kept reminding me that I was “not getting any younger”—an unnecessary
revelation given that I have joints that sound like rusty hinges.
In
response to her coaxing (nagging, whatever) I have more or less taken myself to
the doctor each year for a physical. He weighs me and writes down digits I
don’t recognize. He takes my blood pressure and temperature and records those
next to the box that lists my age as over 50 and eligible for reporting to AARP
for future marketing campaigns.
He
snaps on a latex glove and checks my prostate, making sure not to smirk while
he does it. And he asks me if I have any problems, other than freezing off
various body parts while standing in an undignified paper gown that even Coco
Chanel couldn’t make work. It is then that he begins to speak of various tests
that people “my age” should get.
snaps on a latex glove and checks my prostate, making sure not to smirk while
he does it. And he asks me if I have any problems, other than freezing off
various body parts while standing in an undignified paper gown that even Coco
Chanel couldn’t make work. It is then that he begins to speak of various tests
that people “my age” should get.
The
one that I dreaded was a colonoscopy. It’s just wrong. It’s bad enough that I
have to endure the yearly probe of my nether regions to make sure that my
prostate hasn’t left the building or grown to the size of a baby’s head, but
the idea of someone video-scoping my organs in violation of my “EXIT ONLY” sign
was disturbing.
one that I dreaded was a colonoscopy. It’s just wrong. It’s bad enough that I
have to endure the yearly probe of my nether regions to make sure that my
prostate hasn’t left the building or grown to the size of a baby’s head, but
the idea of someone video-scoping my organs in violation of my “EXIT ONLY” sign
was disturbing.
Caught
in the crossfire of the doctor’s suggestions and my wife’s five-year campaign
of colon-related conversations, I agreed to the procedure. With horror covered
with humor, I entered the gastroentro.. gastronmical.. the damn butt doctor’s
office!! I tried a little levity on the receptionist, saying something like
“the end is near” but she was all business. So, I sat down to fill out the
endless and redundant forms on multicolored paper that look like flyers for the
PTA bake sale.
in the crossfire of the doctor’s suggestions and my wife’s five-year campaign
of colon-related conversations, I agreed to the procedure. With horror covered
with humor, I entered the gastroentro.. gastronmical.. the damn butt doctor’s
office!! I tried a little levity on the receptionist, saying something like
“the end is near” but she was all business. So, I sat down to fill out the
endless and redundant forms on multicolored paper that look like flyers for the
PTA bake sale.
Filling
out the forms at the butt doctor was a queasy affair. I’m used to the normal
medical questionnaire that deals with general aches, breaks, and past
procedures. This one included a long list of possible past problems about
everything from intestinal parasites to excessive navel lint. Just completing
the questionnaire made me want to spread tissues on top of the chair I was
sitting in.
out the forms at the butt doctor was a queasy affair. I’m used to the normal
medical questionnaire that deals with general aches, breaks, and past
procedures. This one included a long list of possible past problems about
everything from intestinal parasites to excessive navel lint. Just completing
the questionnaire made me want to spread tissues on top of the chair I was
sitting in.
After
the traditional 45-minute wait, I met the doctor who explained the procedure.
In a nutshell it is this: The day before you get the procedure, you will not
eat real food so you have room to ingest so many laxatives that by the time you
have flushed your system, the only thing circling the bowl is dust and cobwebs.
The next morning you will proceed to the hospital to be placed in a room kept
at a constant 59 degrees, whereat you will don a robe that is the same
thickness as a butterfly wing, and be wheeled into another room where cheery
people tell you to relax as they put you to sleep so that you don’t have to
witness the worst humiliation on the planet.
the traditional 45-minute wait, I met the doctor who explained the procedure.
In a nutshell it is this: The day before you get the procedure, you will not
eat real food so you have room to ingest so many laxatives that by the time you
have flushed your system, the only thing circling the bowl is dust and cobwebs.
The next morning you will proceed to the hospital to be placed in a room kept
at a constant 59 degrees, whereat you will don a robe that is the same
thickness as a butterfly wing, and be wheeled into another room where cheery
people tell you to relax as they put you to sleep so that you don’t have to
witness the worst humiliation on the planet.
Following
the procedure, you may experience excessive amounts of gas that are the
byproduct of blowing up your intestines like a balloon animal so that the
doctor can get a really good view of your pipes. It is, therefore, quite normal
to lie in the recovery room as around you is the harmony of bowel-blasting
bassoons going off behind curtained cubicles at irregular intervals. You may
choose to join the wind section and with some coaxing, the group might be able
to pull off the first eight bars of Peter and the Wolf. One cheery nurse
called it “music to her ears.” What the hell is on her iPod?!
the procedure, you may experience excessive amounts of gas that are the
byproduct of blowing up your intestines like a balloon animal so that the
doctor can get a really good view of your pipes. It is, therefore, quite normal
to lie in the recovery room as around you is the harmony of bowel-blasting
bassoons going off behind curtained cubicles at irregular intervals. You may
choose to join the wind section and with some coaxing, the group might be able
to pull off the first eight bars of Peter and the Wolf. One cheery nurse
called it “music to her ears.” What the hell is on her iPod?!
Assuming
that the doctor doesn’t nick something (ouch), you will then return to your
normal life with practically no symptoms other than the desire to consume food
at a rate that you have not tried since you swallowed half the buffet table at
Thanksgiving.
that the doctor doesn’t nick something (ouch), you will then return to your
normal life with practically no symptoms other than the desire to consume food
at a rate that you have not tried since you swallowed half the buffet table at
Thanksgiving.
Within
a few days the doctor will report whether anything was noted that will require
future attention. Most of the time one gets the “all clear” and you’re off the
hook for another five years. I did, and it was music to my colon.
a few days the doctor will report whether anything was noted that will require
future attention. Most of the time one gets the “all clear” and you’re off the
hook for another five years. I did, and it was music to my colon.
It
is now that I am supposed to tell you that “it wasn’t that bad” and “you really
should consider it” and other such rot. But that’s not me. Besides, who would
take health advice from a guy who thinks the four food groups are alcohol,
caffeine, nicotine and grease?
is now that I am supposed to tell you that “it wasn’t that bad” and “you really
should consider it” and other such rot. But that’s not me. Besides, who would
take health advice from a guy who thinks the four food groups are alcohol,
caffeine, nicotine and grease?
So,
let me just put it this way. If you don’t mind spending a night reading all of
Tolstoy’s works while perched on porcelain, if you like having a half dozen
medical types chirp cheerily about your bowels, and if you think that knowing
whether you have become a polyp pen is important, then by all means invite the
neighbors and make a party out of your poop peek. If not, I strongly recommend
an equal dose of ignorance and denial. That’s the route I’m taking until my
wife corners me again.
let me just put it this way. If you don’t mind spending a night reading all of
Tolstoy’s works while perched on porcelain, if you like having a half dozen
medical types chirp cheerily about your bowels, and if you think that knowing
whether you have become a polyp pen is important, then by all means invite the
neighbors and make a party out of your poop peek. If not, I strongly recommend
an equal dose of ignorance and denial. That’s the route I’m taking until my
wife corners me again.
