It’s official. I’m old. Today I had a colonoscopy – a belated 50th birthday present. The prep work for this is like having intentionally asked for tap water in Mexico. The waiting room at the Endoscopy Center was bustling this morning with other fifty year old's and their designated drivers.
I assumed there would be a long wait, but they run a pretty tight ship there and it wasn't but a few minutes before they called me to the back where they had curtained-off bays for patients being prepped, and for those who had already had the procedure. You could tell the ones who had finished by the audible and frequent sounds emanating from their bodies.
The nurses are very friendly, if not a bit hurried. I had two nurses giving me simultaneous instructions, “Take deep breaths.” “Make a fist.” I was too confused to tell if I liked all the attention or found it annoying. I was quickly whisked to the procedure room where the doctor asked me how I liked the prep work. (It was literally a blast.) I was, thankfully, given propofol before I could get a good look at the instruments. And the next thing I know I was back in the curtained area, eating Cheez Its and making my own noises.
I was instructed to take it easy the rest of the day – no housework, no cooking, no driving. Bliss. I almost asked for it in writing. And except for my bowels, it’s been a pretty quiet day.