Right about now I should be laid back, relaxin’ in my underwear (strapless gown?) in a recovery room, sippin’ beer an’ munchin’ on pretzels. My first colonoscopy, shrouded in dissipating anesthesia, little more than fading memory. Instead, I’m sittin’ home (in my underwear and house coat) writing this.
When I mentioned the beer and pretzels to my buddy, he said, “Ya don’t git beer and pretzels stupid!” I’m pretty sure he’s mistaken. He’s never had a colonoscopy either, so he really can’t know for sure? But like most guys, he’s perfectly willing to make stuff up, to encourage someone else to “go first”.
I confidently explained that (somewhere) in the lengthy instructions I’d received prior to the planned “procedure”, I’d been told to bring along a designated driver. You only need one of those when you plan to (over)indulge, so beer and pretzels were certainly part of the deal. Otherwise, why would I voluntarily agree to this entire egregious process anyway?!
Various medical personnel have been after me (for years) to “git ‘er done!” referring to a colonoscopy. Incessantly expounding on the numerous “benefits” of havin’ one (yeah, right). Pointin’ out everyone past fifty or so “needs” to have one done.
I’ve managed to put this whole thing off a good while by pointing out that my holdin’ at a mere 44yrs. old exempts me. Plus, I’ve always agreed with these same medical folks when they point out, “Half the battle is mental”. So far, this has left me unscathed, “down there”.
Besides, other than some minor irregularities right at the actual “exit port” down there in my “nether” regions, I’ve got no complaints about my plumbing functioning. Plus, when it comes to invasive procedures on my body, I firmly believe in another old adage, “Leave well enough alone”.
I said I should be recovering instead of writing. There are several valid reasons why I’m not.
One, I’ve managed to catch another dadgum cold! Slow as I move these days, I just don’t understand how this happens?! Last one hung around from Thanksgiving right through the “Happy Holidays!” season. This one will probly hang on, ‘til about Easter?
So (unfortunately) I had to cancel that colonoscopy appointment, scheduled for today.
I just didn’t feel comfortable having it done, what with adding cold and cough medicines (plus horse-pill size amoxicillin antibiotics) atop my other dozen or so daily medicines regime.
That was one reason. The other mighta been my thinkin’ about my “pre-procedure” interview?
I’d had that a few days ago with a perky young nurse over at the “facility”, where the “procedure” was to transpire. Not to denigrate the facility, which was all shiny new and obviously outfitted with all the latest medical stuff one might ordinarily require?
Fact remains, if yer gonna “put me to sleep” (did that with a dog once, it was permanent) I’d prefer of a team of 30 or 40 highly-trained professionals on hand right outside my door! Backed up by a multistory building housing all the redundant, standby medical equipment that just might be required to “reawaken” me (I don’t wake up all that easy).
Finally..., I’m not all that sure the answers I got during the interview (I always ask more questions than they do) were totally candid?
Fer instance, I’d raised questions about the “instruments” they’d be using. Pointin’ out that I understood the device to be umm..., inserted, was the size of a garden hose? The young woman (condescendingly) exclaimed, “Oh noo...! It’s only about the size of this”, pointin’ to a skinny little 1/4 inch, blood pressure machine tube.
I countered that I was pretty sure she must be mistaken. So I inquired, "Does it not include a video/TV type camera, plus another device to “nip” any offending growths that might be spotted?" She agreed.
This made me suspicious right off, since I own a VCR/video camera a friend gave me. I’ve never used it, but it’s bulky enough I’m sure it’d require shoulder straps just to steady it.
Finally, (brandishing my formidable biological expertise) I asked, “Doesn’t the alimentary canal system extend roughly 28 feet from tummy to the uhh..., the final exit port? She agreed.
Well now! I’ve got a fifty-foot garden hose hangin' right on the side of my house. I figure it’s gonna take something roughly half that length to git the job done? Yet when I pointed this out, she just laughed.
Surely you can understand why I got just a might nervous. So I up and canceled whole shebang.
I Don’t Know About You..., I’m still cogitatin’ on whether I dare reschedule?
Cal Teeple, founder of the Observational Cogitation Consortium is often found three stools down, where he may be ignored, accosted or contacted. Also At: wayneindependent.com/cal OR At: calteeple@g-mail.com.
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Right about now I should be laid back, relaxin’ in my underwear (strapless gown?) in a recovery room, sippin’ beer an’ munchin’ on pretzels. My first colonoscopy, shrouded in dissipating anesthesia, little more than fading memory. Instead, I’m sittin’ home (in my underwear and house coat) writing this.
When I mentioned the beer and pretzels to my buddy, he said, “Ya don’t git beer and pretzels stupid!” I’m pretty sure he’s mistaken. He’s never had a colonoscopy either, so he really can’t know for sure? But like most guys, he’s perfectly willing to make stuff up, to encourage someone else to “go first”.
I confidently explained that (somewhere) in the lengthy instructions I’d received prior to the planned “procedure”, I’d been told to bring along a designated driver. You only need one of those when you plan to (over)indulge, so beer and pretzels were certainly part of the deal. Otherwise, why would I voluntarily agree to this entire egregious process anyway?!
Various medical personnel have been after me (for years) to “git ‘er done!” referring to a colonoscopy. Incessantly expounding on the numerous “benefits” of havin’ one (yeah, right). Pointin’ out everyone past fifty or so “needs” to have one done.
I’ve managed to put this whole thing off a good while by pointing out that my holdin’ at a mere 44yrs. old exempts me. Plus, I’ve always agreed with these same medical folks when they point out, “Half the battle is mental”. So far, this has left me unscathed, “down there”.
Besides, other than some minor irregularities right at the actual “exit port” down there in my “nether” regions, I’ve got no complaints about my plumbing functioning. Plus, when it comes to invasive procedures on my body, I firmly believe in another old adage, “Leave well enough alone”.
I said I should be recovering instead of writing. There are several valid reasons why I’m not.
One, I’ve managed to catch another dadgum cold! Slow as I move these days, I just don’t understand how this happens?! Last one hung around from Thanksgiving right through the “Happy Holidays!” season. This one will probly hang on, ‘til about Easter?
So (unfortunately) I had to cancel that colonoscopy appointment, scheduled for today.
I just didn’t feel comfortable having it done, what with adding cold and cough medicines (plus horse-pill size amoxicillin antibiotics) atop my other dozen or so daily medicines regime.
That was one reason. The other mighta been my thinkin’ about my “pre-procedure” interview?
I’d had that a few days ago with a perky young nurse over at the “facility”, where the “procedure” was to transpire. Not to denigrate the facility, which was all shiny new and obviously outfitted with all the latest medical stuff one might ordinarily require?
Fact remains, if yer gonna “put me to sleep” (did that with a dog once, it was permanent) I’d prefer of a team of 30 or 40 highly-trained professionals on hand right outside my door! Backed up by a multistory building housing all the redundant, standby medical equipment that just might be required to “reawaken” me (I don’t wake up all that easy).
Finally..., I’m not all that sure the answers I got during the interview (I always ask more questions than they do) were totally candid?
Fer instance, I’d raised questions about the “instruments” they’d be using. Pointin’ out that I understood the device to be umm..., inserted, was the size of a garden hose? The young woman (condescendingly) exclaimed, “Oh noo...! It’s only about the size of this”, pointin’ to a skinny little 1/4 inch, blood pressure machine tube.
I countered that I was pretty sure she must be mistaken. So I inquired, "Does it not include a video/TV type camera, plus another device to “nip” any offending growths that might be spotted?" She agreed.
This made me suspicious right off, since I own a VCR/video camera a friend gave me. I’ve never used it, but it’s bulky enough I’m sure it’d require shoulder straps just to steady it.
Finally, (brandishing my formidable biological expertise) I asked, “Doesn’t the alimentary canal system extend roughly 28 feet from tummy to the uhh..., the final exit port? She agreed.
Well now! I’ve got a fifty-foot garden hose hangin' right on the side of my house. I figure it’s gonna take something roughly half that length to git the job done? Yet when I pointed this out, she just laughed.
Surely you can understand why I got just a might nervous. So I up and canceled whole shebang.
I Don’t Know About You..., I’m still cogitatin’ on whether I dare reschedule?
Cal Teeple, founder of the Observational Cogitation Consortium is often found three stools down, where he may be ignored, accosted or contacted. Also At: wayneindependent.com/cal OR At: calteeple@g-mail.com.
