||| ORCASIONAL MUSINGS BY STEVE HENIGSON |||

One of the “features” of aging past 50 is the quinquennial colonoscopy, “just to make sure that nothing bad is happening in there.” And now it was time for me to get mine. Not only is the process annoying and uncomfortable, but it is also embarrassing, especially when the invading Proctologist is both of the opposite sex and younger than I am.

And then there is the stuff I will have to take. It’s named Moviprep. It’s issued as a one-Liter container, plus four envelopes of powder to be used two at a time. The first two powders are dissolved into a full Liter of warm water, and the resulting “refreshing beverage” is reminiscent of liquid dishwasher detergent, complete with a slightly citrus flavor. I was to drink that, and then, later, after a great deal of uncomfortably running to and fro, I would get to do it all over again.

The whole Moviprep thing is a cruel joke. Moviprep is a large amount of rather nasty stuff to drink in preparation for the examination, but, somehow, after all of that preparation, you never do get to see the Movie.
This vile-tasting and discomfort-causing liquid is supposed to clear me out entirely. It improves visibility, I guess, but I bet that it’s also intended to make things so spotless in there that the Proctologist won’t have to work too hard at cleaning up the instrumentation after the procedure is over.
So there it was, staring at me from our calendar. In a day or two, I would have a telephone interview with the anesthesiologist. Yes, I need an anesthesiologist, because in no way do I want to be, um, cognizant of the festivities that my body would be hosting. And then, about a week further out from that, I would have to start moving and prepping.

And that’s when my clever colonoscopy-avoidance plan came to fruition. There was nothing special to it. Anybody could do it. I merely came down with pneumonia! My symptoms were very much like those of a heart attack, including a tightly screwed down, center-of-chest iron clamp, but with the added pleasure of a sharp and piercing, bodkin-like stab during every inhale. That last was the tip-off to the paramedics, and it got me yet another fun-filled helicopter ride to Bellingham, and four days in the purgatory that is Saint Joseph’s Hospital for the physiologically perplexed.
So my colonoscopy was now definitely a non-starter. You just can’t do those things to people who are deathly ill with pneumonia. Oh, happy day…I think.

Well, not really. It still has to happen. It’s just been moved back about a month, or, if I can come up with another equally clever ploy, maybe two. But there’s still a box of Moviprep, lurking out there somewhere with my name on it.

Still, I almost got away with it. Over my dead body? Yeah, well…as I said, almost!

But seriously, folks, being on the receiving end of a colonoscopy isn’t quite as bad as having pneumonia. And if it keeps you from dying of bowel cancer, and it gives a Proctologist something useful and edifying to do, I think that it’s a pretty good idea. So don’t put it off. Well, not for too long, anyway.


 

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