Ladies, this is the time of year when I go for my mammogram and try to give you a friendly, little blog reminder to get yours by trying to find the humor in the awkwardness that frequently rears its head in a woman's preventative health plight. So, yes, schedule your mammogram if you're due one, please. But, that's not what we're going to talk about today. No, today's post is a different public service reminder about another important screening test. The colonoscopy.

I turned 50, last May, and you know what that means. Yes, today, I went for my first colonoscopy. And according to this sheet they sent me home with, I'm not supposed to make any financial decisions, sign any legal documents, operate heavy machinery, or climb any ladders for the rest of the day. I hope online shopping doesn't fall under the financial heading, because there's been some of that.

Anyway, I've had several friends who'd relayed their colonoscopy experiences to me, through the years. Some good. Some pretty ugly. So, really, I didn't know what to believe, but, you know, I'm a stickler for timely checkups and routine tests. I know something will kill me, one day, but I'd like to delay that day a little while if I can.

So, armed with my little list, I bought all of my party supplies and was ready for the big prep day. Fat Tuesday of all days. Let me tell you. There was nothing fat about my Tuesday. I'd bought the box of Dulcolax and the MiraLax in a bottle similar in size to fabric softener. Oh, and the quarts of Gatorade to mix with it. The Gatorade flavor is a difficult decision to make at a time like this. You have to stand there on the grocery aisle and contemplate which flavor you'd most likely keep down when mixing it with chalk dust, therefore, tainting your view of that particular flavor from that day forward. I couldn't see Glacier Freeze or Frost Cool Blue having much chance of staying down, so I went with Fierce Grape and pretended like I was drinking a Grape Nehi….albeit laced with sawdust. I noticed the label on one of the meds described the product as providing gentle, predictable relief. Let me tell you.....there was nothing gentle there. And the only thing predicable about it was that you were going to be on the toilet. Relief surely wouldn't have been the word I would've chosen either. All lies.  

If doing that all afternoon and night wasn't enough, the sheet said to get up at 5:00 am the next morning and drink another quart of Gatorade laced with the horse laxative. And you know how I love those early morning hours. To get up early on Christmas or to leave on vacation, yes, but not to sit in my bathroom losing electrolytes. As I so rarely to never do, I watched the sun come up as I guzzled my morning cocktails. And it comes to a point when you start to wonder, what else could possibly be in there? Maybe a piece of gum I swallowed in 5th grade that had gotten hung up somewhere. It was kind of like the clown's handkerchief that just keeps coming and coming out of his coat pocket. I got on the scale, this morning, fully expecting to see my first driver's license weight. You know how the little lines flash, while it's calculating your weight? "Come on, 105. Mama needs a new pair of shoes."  But, no. I couldn't figure out how it wasn't, though. It was the weight of my mailbox running days, though, so there's victory in that.   

With my colon set back to factory settings, Davis drove me to the clinic and they called my cell phone as we were driving into the parking lot. We were a few minutes early, so I didn't know what the rush was. I mean, these people were obviously anxious to see my colon. They immediately called my name when I walked in and I staggered back there like someone, who'd been up all night drinking....laxatives. I noticed there was only one other patient in the whole clinic. I remembered it being full of people when I'd taken Davis for his, so I thought the desolation was odd. Maybe there were some cancellations. People who couldn't keep down a poor flavor choice and had to abort the mission. No wonder they were calling me out in the parking lot. These people needed something to do.

Of course, the sweet nurse took me to curtained area #1 and gave me the run down. It was the usual instructions we, women, are used to hearing. "Take off everything, put this gown on, and I'll be right back." She told me I could keep my socks on. How generous. A friend and I had just discussed, after her colonoscopy, that we don't know what it is, but you can take our clothes, our privacy, our dignity, but if you'll let us keep our socks on, then we're good. There is such a sweet, sweet comfort in the socks. Can I get a witness? Davis tied me up in the back for that extra layer of coverage that those gowns so excessively provide. After all the standard things they have to do, I was left waiting and thinking about the macaroni and cheese I'd been craving during the hours spent sitting upon my throne. I'd spent the entire Fat-less Tuesday carefully weighing all of the delicious options for my first meal. I'd decided it would include macaroni and cheese. The good soul food kind. And I couldn't wait. I'm not sure where the craving came from. Perhaps it was my body's way of begging for something to help clog the drain, if you will.    

The good thing about an almost empty building is there's no waiting, so they got me right back. Can you imagine being the person who does this every day? The Treasury Department couldn't print enough money to pay me to do this type of work. But, thank goodness, the Lord calls some of His people to the ministry of dirty jobs. Next thing I remember is that it was all over thanks to some good pharmaceuticals. I might add, the pharmaceutical companies are doing some good work. Mighty fine work, I tell you.

Two hours after I came in the building, I was walking out. My parting gifts were a Moon Pie and my very own color pictures of my colon to take home. I mean, I guess it's my colon. Not that I could pick it out in a lineup or anything. Maybe they just print out the same pictures and tell you it's your colon. Really it looks like the hose that comes out of the back of your dryer, but I digress. Anyway, the pictures are really an odd size, so I think I'll have a hard time finding frames to fit them. I'll just have to hang them on the frig, where we all hang things of which we're particularly proud. Oh, and I forgot to mention the sheet I left with said I'd be receiving a card in the mail in 2029 reminding me of my next appointment. Woop woop. Perhaps Jesus will return before then.  
All joking aside, the colonoscopy really wasn't as bad as I'd heard it built up to be. They've come a long way in making the meds much more palatable than the horror stories I'd heard. I'm a big gagger, so if I didn't have trouble getting it down, well, it's really not that bad. When I was younger (you know, back in my 30's and 40's) I thought I'd just roll the dice on the colon thing. I mean, I get everything else checked, so I thought I could let that one slide. But, I lost an old college friend, last year, to colon cancer. He died before he reached the age when he should've even been screened for it. He was a joyful soul with such an awesome sense of humor. So full of life. Colon cancer took him way before the sparkle had left his eyes. Another close friend had a scare with her first test, recently. They were able to find and treat her problem before it turned bad. So, for that, once every decade, yes, I can sit in the bathroom for hours on end with my eyeballs floating in grape Nehi gone bad and wake up at 5 a.m. to do it all over again. Why? Because, I'm a big girl. And what's one more item on a woman's medical torture checklist anyway? 

As women, we busy ourselves taking care of so many people. We wear ourselves out making sure everyone in the generations, between which we're sandwiched, is seen about and is healthy. We have to make it a priority to take care of ourselves, too. We can't do all that we do if we aren't in good health. And, my goodness, if we didn't do what we do, who in the world would? The lint trap in the dryer would never be emptied and I don't even want to think about the inside of the microwave. I may die tomorrow from something that has no yearly screening or scheduled testing, but I'm going to take advantage of the resources and capabilities God has provided for us to help ourselves and let Him handle the rest.

My people need me way too much. Really, they do.

Make those appointments, ladies.


Night.