When a professional looks you in the eye and says, “Sit down, I have something I want to talk to you about,” your normal reaction is a flexing of the gluteus maximus and the appearance of sweat drops on the palms of your hands.
It could be your realtor advising you that an offer has come in on your house, but it is $50,000 below your asking price. Ouch. Or your lawyer whispering to you, “We have a little problem on last year’s taxes.” You know what I mean.
Well, it happened to me a month ago. Doc Landry was flipping through my charts during a routine visit to Bassett Healthcare when he reached a page, did a few “oohs” and “umms” and then looked up at me and said with a smile, “Looks like somebody is ready for their colonoscopy.”
“Let me guess. That’s would be me, right, Doc?”
Cue the butt tightening and palm sweat.
I just had my colonoscopy last Tuesday.
What is the inherent fear of this outpatient surgery? We all need it when we reach a certain age, men and women alike. I just think the brochure writers have not come up with the perfect euphemisms yet to gently describe the procedure. Most think of it akin to paying a visit to Torquemada’s dungeon.
I arrived on time at Bassett on River Street in Oneonta. I was in a good mood, actually a euphoric mood. I had eaten only two small bowls of lime green Jell-O in the last 30 hours. And that was it. Gallons of water to kick off the prep, some weird chemical that they give you for a (euphemism alert) “robust cleansing” and a series of all night runs to the (euphemism alert) “comfort room” and I was ready for my performance.