Stretched out on my left side, my rear end exposed to a crack team of healthcare professionals (crack team, get it?) just waiting for me to doze off so they could shove a long, flexible lighted tube uh, up there, I supposed at one time this all seemed like a good idea.
Just a couple of weeks earlier, during a routine physical scheduled for no other reason than to celebrate the start of my second half century on this earth, my doctor asked if Id ever had a colonoscopy. I have to admit, for a brief second I thought aboutwhat do the politicians call it?embellishing the facts by saying I had. If he asked for details, I was prepared to say I did it at home with a do-it-yourself kit I bought over the Internet and that everything was just fine, thank you. Instead, I admitted I hadnt, so one was scheduled. It wasnt long before I discovered a sort of silent fraternity of those guys who have swallowed their dignityalong with a gallon of gosh-awful liquid that flushes your system like Dranoand already had at least one colonoscopy and lived to talk about it, although it seldom came up in polite company. The message I heard most often was that getting a colonoscopy was a good idea. Reportedly, colorectal cancer is 90 percent preventable if people get screened; yet estimates are that only 30 to 40 percent of adults ages 50 and older take the time to get screened. Consequently, colorectal cancer is the second-leading cancer killer of men and women in the United States because it is often detected too late. Okay, so getting a colonoscopy is a good thing. But still the question nags: If they can put a man on the moon, why cant they find a more dignified way to explore the insides of mine? The day before the procedure starts with a variation of fasting that allows the limited intake of clear stuff, mostly liquidswhite grape juice, Jello, popsicles, teauntil early evening. This disruption to my usual excessive eating was challenging enough; it wasnt helped by my wifes decision to bake fresh bread and spend he day watching Rachael Ray, the Iron Chef, and Emeril. She claims it was merely coincidence. In my muddled mental state, I might label it passive-aggressive It doesnt really matter, because eventually, unless you have a TV in the bathroom, viewing choices cease to matter. This starts not long after you begin to drink glass after glass of a liquid with one purpose: to flush your insides like a hose blasting through a car radiator, over and over again until you swear the U.S. Olympic bobsled team could sail through you in Gold Medal time. The next day, before they knocked me out, I learned a few things. For example, the colon is also known as the large bowel, and it is about five feet long. The lighted tube allows the doctor to look inside the large intestine for inflamed tissue, abnormal growths, and also for early signs of cancer. The scope blows air into the colon, inflating it to provide a better view, and the images are seen on a video screen. (Sounds like strange viewing, until you realize that its not that big a leap to imagine it on Fox as a new reality show.) I asked the nurse if the procedure isnt a little like snaking a sewer. She responded with a standard colonoscopy comeback: “Keep it up and well do you twice.” (Rimshot.) As I dozed off the last thought I remembered was a question: What could possibly motivate someone smart enough to be a doctor to specialize in performing colonoscopies? I figured the pay must be good, and they probably get to keep any loose change they find I just hoped they didnt sign their work, because I seldom look down there I woke up with a nurse hovering over me encouraging me to pass gas (maybe the only place its socially acceptable) and handing me an eight-by-ten glossy of my colon, suitable for framing. If nothing else, Ill keep it to refute my wifes occasional assertion that my head is permanently stuck up there. And perhaps for Fox publicity shots so they wont have to shoot new ones.
