My ‘Nuclear Stress Test’ was today. The only bad part was the no caffeine for 24 hours prior rule. Not that I consume that much anyway, but just the idea of not being able to have an Iced Mocha yesterday if the mood hit me was a drag. But that’s not why I’m happy to be alive. (not that it shows)
The real reason can be explained this way. My father died of colon cancer run amok in 1985 at age 60. “Too young” I was often told by those who knew him. He fully retired less that two years prior from 33 years in the Postal Service and 4 years military duty during World War Two. After his death I hadn’t given much thought to living beyond that age myself. Over the years I’ve done well financially and managed to put away quite a bit of money for retirement, I just never believed I’d be around to spend it and figured my heirs would make out rather well. One day I was telling my financial advisor about my father and he said he finally understood my reluctance to discuss long term goals.
Starting in my late 40’s my doctor started getting after me to have certain tests done based on family history. Once I hit the magic ’50’ number he really put the pressure on until I gave in this week. I wasn’t worried about the procedure itself, it was the results I dreaded. But I finally decided it was the right thing to do and so on Monday of this week I had a colonoscopy.
For anyone unfamiliar with modern medicine let me say Versed is an A*M*A*Z*I*N*G drug. During the prep work I asked what sedative was to be used. Versed was the answer and was told it caused amnesia. (they weren’t kidding) After all the prep they wheeled me into the procedure room where the doctor introduced himself and went over a few things. Then the doctor told the nurse to inject me. I remember very clearly they had me roll over onto my left side and raise my knees and…POOF!, I’m opening my eyes in the recovery area on my back. There is gauze and tape where the I.V. needle was positioned in my arm the last time I looked. The nurse walks over and tells me they are finished, raises the back of my bed and asks if I would like something to drink. The entire procedure between those two points is a total blank. Thirty minutes later I’m at home on the couch reading a Harlan Ellison paperback. The worst part by far was the cleansing and fasting beforehand.
And oh by the way, everything was “normal”. They didn’t find anything to worry about.