In Preparation For The Dreaded Colonoscopy

Getting old is tiresome. Getting old is tiresome mentally and physically. I can understand why old people don't care if they die. I've started taking stock of doctor visits and I'm quickly falling into the category of becoming super old. The best aspect of my week is when I look at my personal schedule and don't see, "Dr. visit".
2013 was not a good year in the death department. Quite of few friends and acquaintances moved on to their eternal reward and, saddened as I was, moved on quickly. It is what it is. Thirty years ago if someone my age died I'd go into shock. I'd make light of death and dying because it would help me ward off the evilness of it's finality. In regard to the possibility of death I can now proclaim that, "I am here".
This may be more of a problem that I thought but I'll try and remember doctor visits I've made in the last twelve months: 1) General Practioner: once every three months for blood tests to make sure my medications are working(they aren't), 2) Optometrist twice, 3) brain mapping sessions, once a week http://science.howstuffworks.com/life/inside-the-mind/human-brain/brain-mapping.htm every week,
3) podiatrist, 4) dentist-three visits yearly unless my veneer caps come off which they do when I eat popcorn. I happen to be an Orville Redenbacher fanatic. I don't know what I'll do when all my teeth fall out. Besides, only losers eat popcorn sans "old maids". 5) Audiologist for hearing aid adjustments and a six month supply of batteries, four times yearly. The more doctor visits a person has the less likely they are to be depressed about the Big Sleep.
I'm missing other doctor visits but you get my drift. On Friday I visit my Buttologist. I'm past due for the dreaded colonoscopy. I had my first one fifteen years ago. My friends told me it was a nothing deal. Some guy knocks you out, then you wake up and it's all over. Well, here's what they didn't tell me. During the process, as my Buttologist was performing his duties, snipping a polyp I presume, I awakened with an earth shattering scream. My insides were on fire. The anesthesiologist must have received his degree in Jamaica. Then, after the procedure, I came home and lay on my couch for three hours oblivious to what year it was. My second butt scan produced no polyps. My third did. My fourth scan was to take place in 2007. Since I can't remember what I had for lunch the previous day I forgot about it. The hospital sent a letter to my home informing me I was a high risk candidate for cancer. That didn't work out so well. We had moved and the letter was returned to the hospital, 'non-deliverable'. So, three months ago my GP said, "You haven't had a colonoscopy in awhile". I hadn't thought about it that much. I responded with, "What's it been, two years"?  "No he said, it's more like seven". Have you ever heard this one? GP's bury their mistakes!
I made an appointment with the Mt. Carmel Buttology facility and the big event happens this Friday. I did receive one scary phone call from the nurse where the procedure will happen. She said, "Where have you been? You' re high risk for colon cancer". That, my friends, is unnerving. I asked, "Why is it you can't find the right home address"? It was a wasted smart aleck statement.
Yesterday I drove to my local Walgreen's to buy the necessary essentials. I've always purchased a cleansing liquid in an 8 oz. bottle. It's easy and does the job as well as can be expected. But, my doctor wrote a prescription for the dreaded Nutrycrap. You know what it is, a big jug with powder in it. Then water is added and you drink it until you're as bloated as some New York gangster who has been in the Hudson River for a month. It's like a non-stop enema for the mouth. The next horrid aspect is I'm scheduled for my probe at 2:30 on Friday. Every other one has been at 8 AM. This means I have to start the flushing process on Thursday morning then carry it out until noonish on Friday. People in the old Soviet gulags didn't go that long without food.
As I consider the results of the exam I've come to the conclusion that I'm not afraid of what the doctor tells me. Not trying to sound morbid but if I had the Big C I could handle it. If I don't then I'll do it all over again in a couple of years. Getting old is a lot easier than youngsters would think. We've seen and heard enough in our earlier lives that we can roll with the punch quite easily. When given bad news old people will say, "Well, that's a good excuse to take that trip I've always wanted".
I don't mind some stranger sticking a cattle prod up my rectum but, God forbid, if I wake up I'm going to slap him silly. That's what old people get to do.