It’s C̶o̶r̶o̶n̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ Colonoscopy Day!
The timeless rite of passage when a man becomes a boy
I turned 45 this year, and for my birthday, the CDC got me a colonoscopy.
The guidelines used to say age 50, but it changed this year. For the exclusive club of 1978 babies (all of us born—ahem—nine months after our parents saw Star Wars?), we get it NOW.
More precisely, I’m getting mine today.
Like, right now.
Just about the time you’re reading this.
But back 16 hours ago— that’s where I am. I’m sitting here, on my bed, waiting for the “clear the system” medicine to kick in. Been about an hour since I forced down TWELVE PILLS. Feeling good. The anticipation is palpable. I’m writing on my phone, listening to the Hamilton Mix Tape.
“I’m not gonna throw away my shot“
Oop, there’s a gurgle. False alarm. Not yet. Soon, buddy, soon.
Fun fact: I’m actually getting a two-for-one (some might call it a #2-for-one). While I’m knocked out, they’ll be taking a look at my esophagus, too. Bonus!
Here’s how it went down with my doctor:
Doc: “Okay, great. So we’ll do both while you’re under anesthesia.”
Me: “Both? You’ll go (ahem) top to bottom, right?” (Jim-style look to camera)
Doc: (Unimpressed) “We have more than one camera.”
Me: (Realizing) “Will they take a picture of each other in the middle?
Doc: “Get out of here!”
I clearly have no sense of how healthcare works (or decorum fwiw) but between this procedure and getting old-man reading glasses, it’s been a year of getting older. But I’m not worried about it. Most people told me I’d start not caring about things in my 40s, and they were right. If only my anxious 26-year-old self could know this ease. But he’s busy journaling about “falling behind” while emo-ing out to Dashboard Confessional.
“I will never be satisfied”
I’ve only eaten chicken broth and a side of Jell-o all day. Can’t tell if the stomach rumblies are simply hunger or the pre-earthquake tremors. Bit of both.
I’m on a number of text chains with college friends that have, for years, been full of sports clips, memes, and ripping on each other. But this year, they’ve all transformed into an endless Web MD research paper. Colonoscopies. Elective surgeries. Plantar fasciitis (OK, that was me).
“Say no to this”
This is taking forever. I thought it would be more instantaneous than this. But I’m not complaining. Getting the quiet time to write is a nice treat. No family member dares to enter this room.
Lest you question how I got like this, I told my dad I was getting a colonoscopy and he immediately replied, “Well, you’ll soon be the butt of the joke.”
“Dear Theodo”-oh no. See you on the other side, everyone. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Public service announcement: for real, when it’s your turn, get this done. It’s a joke to me, but it’s no laughing matter.
“You’ll be back…..”
Questions for discussion:
What are your markers for age? I still feel like anyone 31 to 45(!) looks exactly the same age, at least here in LA.
Unrelated: when did orthodontics get so advanced? My kids have like three phases. In the 80s, they just put you under and you woke up with 3.5 fewer teeth.
Related: who has seen Ryan Reynolds’ Lead from Behind video?
Who has a joke about all this that tops my dad?
Thanks for reading, dear reader.
I suspect this made you smirk and think of a friend who would enjoy this kind of open-minded wit and wisdom. Perhaps you’ll do me a solid (sorry, couldn’t help myself) and forward this to them?
Until I wake up next time,
Alec