Unless you are 55+years old, you might not know about the colonoscopy. The colon is the last section of your large intestine (being a loving and kind Creator, God made it large so we’d have time to make it to the toilet). So, combine colon with telescope (doctors are not so kind) and you get colonoscopy. The procedure is intended to provide an early indication of colon cancer. A colonoscopy is highly recommended for age 55 and older, younger if there is a family history.

For preparation, at least at the VA, we are given two large paper grocery bags filled with mostly liquids and some pills to take, beginning the Friday before the procedure on Monday. The liquids included 2 gallon jugs filled with quinine water, and a 3rd bottle taken the night before surgery. I can’t remember the name of that last liquid, primarily due to loss of memory caused by trauma. My Lord, that weekend was a brutal experience. In the waiting room with other veterans the morning of procedure, a large fellow veteran with vacant eyes said he finally found the set of car keys he’d lost 3 years before. None of us laughed, not even him.

An hour before the procedure, ten men at a time, we were each given a Demerol, a strong opioid, to make us sleep during the procedure. I was wide awake. Opioids do nothing for me, except to make me nauseous when given too much. So, I was given a bed and rolled into the colonoscopy room. I was turned on my side, facing the large monitor the proctologist, behind me, of course, used for my procedure. The proctologist was a Scythe, with the white turban on his head and a sword on his hip. I thought, “A religious man. That’s cool.” When he started, I looked around, and what I saw looked just like the snake on my Roto-Rooter at home. I then watched the monitor, and honestly found it very interesting, just a little uncomfortable each time he went around the bend. My doctor was a master at his skill.

Afterwards, in the recovery room, my proctologist saw I was wide awake, so he stopped to give me the report directly. He said, “Good news. I found no polyps, no issues at all.” That agreed with what I saw, as well. But he wasn’t finished. ‘”The bad news is, we couldn’t find your colon.” Now I was confused. He said, “Yep. Apparently, you’re just one big asshole!” Still confused, and it hit me. We both burst out laughing. “Clean bill of health.” he said, “Now, get outta here. There are veterans who actually need that bed.” Ex-military doctors – typical.

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