Ask me tongue-in-cheek why I didn’t blog about your colonoscopy, and I’ll just go ahead and do just that. What kind of question was that coming from my wife? Really, you want the world to see the inside of your lower intestine? Fine, here it is.
Caroline was the first of us to go ahead and finally get a colonoscopy. I, on the other hand, have been leery, and it turns out that it was for no good reason. Well, let’s condition that because my idea of a colonoscopy came out of the ancient past where doctors, using something approaching the size of a thermos, required the patient be put under general anesthesia due to the trauma of having a giant tool shoved up your pooper, so they could look around trying to find the damage done by a poor diet. Then there were the stories I picked up before I was seven years old, where adults spoke about the horrors wrought by the laxatives and their foul taste. These scars have lasted a long time.
It turns out I was all wrong, at least as far as the procedure is concerned in 2021. This, though, begs the question, why didn’t one of my doctors ask me over these past eight years just what it was that was making me hesitant to have someone deep-diving past my rectum? Shouldn’t they have known that someone my age could have known of the process prior to modern medicine? Then again, I can also ask myself why didn’t I just Google it?
I have a great answer to that last question. Google any malady or medical procedure, and your ad stream automagically is transformed into a modern-day pharmacopeia where every corner of a webpage is there to encourage the reader to diagnose ailments and formulate strategies to deal with illness: poof, yer a doctor!
Well, it turns out that the device is no bigger than a finger and is able to probe the 5 feet of the colon without discomfort, but then again, what could be uncomfortable under the influence of propofol? This means that I can finally belly-up (or would that be “butt-up”?) and get those nether regions beyond the b-hole checked out and photographed like Caroline’s seen above.
As for how did things look up, that squishy wet pink tube normally filled with creamy brown poop regarding my wife? She had one tiny polyp identified by item #3, a seriously small polyp, and doesn’t have to come in for a return visit for 5-10 years.
Finally, this is a milestone in my writing as while I’ve written about Oregon, Yellowstone, Europe, and other places many times, this is the first time I’ve ever noted anything at all about the interior of my wife’s bottom and for the casual reader, maybe you hope this is the last…until I write about my own.