Colonoscopy and other Tribulations

Poor Dr. Aasmaa, my primary physician, has done everything short of corporal punishment to get me to have a colonoscopy. I could paper the walls with the prescriptions she has written.  I finally caved and went in for my intake (so to speak) with “one of the Top Doctors in NJ.”  (You know, the marketing game of having patients vote for a doctor?)  Actually, this doctor was professional, personable and even shook my hand.  I hope he washed his hands before the shake.

The waiting room in a gastroenterologist’s office isn’t exactly Happy Land.  As a distraction, there was a TV featuring a soap opera “The Young and the Restless.”  Watching were “The Old and the Exhausted.”

I didn’t have the courage to ask the physician what inspired him to enter this discipline.  My, oh my… talk about taking the “Road Less Travelled!”  The neuroplasticity of the human brain allows for amazing adaptations, but really!   Don’t get me wrong, I’m very glad that there are those among us that take on tasks that are, to say the least, challenging.  But daily dealings with the human posterior would not be high on my bucket list.

A woman with a huge rear end walked into the waiting room.  I’m working on non-judgment in my mindfulness practice, but maybe a preoccupation with that part of the anatomy took my thoughts where angels fear to tread.  This appointment was all about “where angels fear to tread.”

The typical feedback regarding colonoscopy is that the procedure is a snap, but it’s the preparation that’s, ahem, challenging.  Honestly, this is what has kept me from the screening.  The idea of drinking a gallon of barely potable liquid and then having to straddle the porcelain throne for a day, was down there with a breast examination as my least faves.

Speaking of breast examinations, placing a sensitive area of the body between cold metal plates and squeezing to paper thinness should be a page out of the Marquis de Sade Handbook.  I’m sure I’ll write more about that another time.

Sigh… I guess there’s no escaping the reality that, as we age, our earthsuits have to be monitored, screened, probed and poked.  At least it provides shared experience and damned good material to write about!

With love,

Rosane