Not worth the gamble

I know I wasn't hallucinating. 

I had been under the influence of sedation, but I had concrete proof. 

Five years ago, after my first big milestone screening test – the one that no one remembers but ends with a report complete with the most colorful but least scenic tourism photography imaginable – my lower digestive tract was declared completely unremarkable except for the appearance of a redundancy – an “extra loop” – which had put a gleam in the doctor’s eye, and which he assured me was not abnormal nor would preclude me from membership in the elusive 10-year club. 

“Congratulations.”

It felt like I had won the lottery.

But the form letter that arrived in the mail just a few weeks ago was an unexpected invitation to take the sightseeing journey early.

“Oh yes,” the lady who answered the phone said when I asked about why they were taking away half my lottery winnings and making me spin the wheel again. “I see that your recall was shortened. Probably happened during a review of your files when your doctor retired. You could postpone …”

“Or I could just get it over with, and not spend the next five years wondering what could be growing unchecked in the recesses of my ascending colon.”

“Probably not worth the gamble.”

So I made the appointment, which turned out to be two days after Christmas. 

And though I tried to keep it all very hush-hush, buying the preparations on the sly, and keeping my nervous energy in check, my secret was discovered when the boy found bottles of electrolytes hidden in a cabinet behind the lunch boxes.

“So when is the colonoscopy?”

Why would you think that?

“Because you never buy Gatorade, and Grandma never buys Gatorade, but I found it in her house last summer and she said she had just had a colonoscopy.”

“It’s two days after Christmas.”

“That's a pretty crappy gift … all puns intended.”

Yes … and no.

The prep is a time-consuming process that requires precision. And test anxiety is ever-present. 

But in my experience, and as strange as it seems, there are more uncomfortable procedures than colonoscopy. And since it's truly preventative, the test can also be a treatment, preventing cancer before it begins. 

The hardest part, for me, has always been having to coordinate a driver. 

If it were an option, I would prefer to wait out the drug-induced delirium and drive myself home.

As it is, I will have to suffer the slings and arrows of my husband telling jokes, ad nauseam, about the funny things I said or did while under the influence of sedation. 

But, thanks to pandemic protocols, he was waiting in the parking lot and not in attendance to witness me waking up drowsily in recovery. 

Even if I danced on top of the nurses’ station, he wasn't there to see it, so the question of it happening would be moot anyway. 

As it turned out, the big day was just another Wednesday in December. With a mid-morning nap, unremarkable results, and my new place in the Five-Year Club celebrated as solid.