Let the indignities begin

It seems that once one reaches the half-century mark, an apple a day no longer keeps the Doctors at bay. Particularly if one has tempted fate by purchasing an evil bicycle which on the first ride wrecks one or two discs in one\'s lower back or perhaps owning an evil, foot breaking Jaguar, or maybe it\'s just the cumulative effect of the normal every day battle to be and feel alive. Except for now it becomes more a battle to stay alive than anything else.

And they say that life begins at 50. Well anyway, on we go to the next physical indignity. This one is called a \"colonoscopy\" and it requires one to \"do the prep\" which means........

No solid food and drinking the Super colon blow concoction which with copious glasses of water, keeps one running to the loo every fifteen minutes for 12 hours or so, evacuating all of the jello you just ate an hour ago.

SIDE BAR: I recommend the Apricot jello, its not bad as boiled down animal bone renderings go. What? Don\'t tell me you didn\'t know where the gelatin in Jello comes from?

Anyway, thanks to the prep there is now an alternate definition for \"Jello shooters\" and it has no alcoholic content, and instead of the bar, its the porceline throne, and you are the server.

The day goes on that way and turns to night and real food becomes something youy always took for granted as you salivate like Pavlov\'s dog at the thought of a mere morsel of real chewable food.

Now its one o\'clock in the morning and wake up call is 4 am. Still you can\'t trust youself to fall asleep with a ticking colon bomb possibly sneaking up on you as you dream of pressure relief valves opening. So maybe this was the last trip to the terlit...well, do ya feel lucky punk? WELL DO YA?

No. It ain\'t worth it. I\'m sure the term \"shit the bed\" was coined for someone, but it aint gonna be me, well not in this decade anyway and definately not tonight. Thankfully, at six-fifteen this morning, they\'ll put me into lala land reeeeeel good so I won\'t realize what kinds of horrible things they use to do what they do.

My uncle Bill called it \"the Black Mariah\" and described it with outstretched arms! Apparently they didn\'t used to knock people out for the procedure. Arrrgh! The Horror!

So its all part of life in these here days I suppose. A single friend of mine goes in for these twice a year because they found polyps in his first one. Of course he get\'s teased that its the closest thing to sex he\'s had in years, poor guy. Maybe they\'ll have post-procedure trauma counselors. Something tells me that \"closure\" will be needed in more than one way.

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