WHERE THE SUN DON’T SHINE
I recently had a colonoscopy. My doctor had recommended that I have one for a long time, but I kept putting it off, because having a camera shoved up the nether regions has never been on my list of top ten things to do on a Friday afternoon. What finally got me to do it was one day I read an article that said there are no signs or symptoms of early colorectal cancer. I didn’t have any signs or symptoms, so I worried I might have it.
The preparation is simple: the day before the procedure you have to eat a clear diet. That is defined as food without substance, flavor or anything that a starving Ethiopian would eat unless a gun was held to his head. The afternoon before the test, you do the cleansing of your digestive system. At one time you had to drink a gallon of industrial strength colon Drano. Now they have it down to four pills and two cups of concentrated industrial strength colon Drano mixed in sixty-four ounces of Gatorade. The result was the same. Out came the normal gross stuff, five gallons of liquid, a nickel I swallowed in 1963, and, I swear to God, Morgan Freeman. Okay, it wasn’t Morgan Freeman. It just kind of looked like him.
At the hospital they had happy little nurses who joked and laughed to try to put me at ease. They were happy because they weren’t having anything shoved up their keisters. After I read some forms telling me about all the risks associated with the procedure, I signed the form giving them permission to do whatever they wanted to me, including using my body for scientific research if I didn’t pay the bill.
The surgical nurse came and got me. She wasn’t nearly as perky and happy as the other nurses. There was this bored expression on her face like she had done this thousands of times before, and I was just another butt in the crowd. The nurse told me she would be giving me a shot that would relax me and make me forget everything that happened while I was having the colonoscopy. The drug worked fine. I have a paper in my house that I signed giving me the doctor’s instructions for recovery. I have no recollection of signing it. Someone may show up in a couple days with a paper that says I signed over my house, car, and first-born child.
The results came out well. No polyps. My colon is as smooth as a baby’s…well, butt.
Okay, all kidding aside, colorectal cancer is one of the most preventable cancers there is, and it is still the second leading cancer killer. Do yourself and your family a favor, if you’re over fifty, bend over and spread ‘em. Remember if you don’t have any symptoms you might have it. Someone needs to take a peek where the sun don’t shine.