and impressed the nurse by being almost an hour early. I wondered if it was appropriate to do some stretches and jog around the room but Deb nodded toward a seat next to her so I grabbed a People magazine. Funny thing about doctor’s offices, I hadn’t read a People magazine in two years, but sure enough, that last one I did read was the ragged copy I pulled out. I thumbed through it a minute and then decided to run some comedy by Deb. Was it appropriate I mused, to make a joke to your colonoscopy doctor before hopping on the table, or would that invite an extra hard examination resulting in a wheelchair sidewalk exit? The comedy plan?
“Could we have some wine first?” but I was pretty sure he’d probably heard that joke a thousand times and I would come to an unpredictable “end.” I also wondered if colonoscopy doctors called each other assholes when they got angry, or something more distant from their work like eye crud. I gave a quick look about the waiting room to see if my conversation drew any curiosity. There were two other couples waiting side-by-side in their 70’s tired and gray with their eyes lowered in a kind of dead stare. I didn’t ask them, but it appeared they had been here enough times to read through every magazine, and were in “let’s just get this over with mode.” As one of their names were called, “Margaret”, I recognized that the waiting room coupling was all about moral support rather than a two-for-one coupon for the exam table. Margaret’s husband stood up, gave her a silent hug before the nurse confirmed he’d be contacted within the hour to come and pick her up. Since this was my very first colonoscopy, it was at that moment I realized two things: one, this was the first in a series of butt explorations that would be taking place for the rest of my life, and two, one of the wonderful obligations of marriage is that we always have someone to sit in the waiting room with and a ride afterwards. When we get married and plan a life together amid toasts and our pressed tux finery, we never consider this as one of the real benefits of our union. Waiting rooms are pretty lonely places, and since we can’t openly complain about it like when we were six, we always have that hand to hold and a sympathetic hug before the ride home.
Margaret disappeared around the corner into a large well lit hallway as the door softly closed behind her: I was next. I tapped my foot nervously and tried to think about other things, but let’s face it, there’s just not that much to look at that’s intellectually stimulating in a waiting room. There are never any windows, and most of the magazines cover women’s fashions leaving men to wade through stacks of girly advice to find that one Sports Illustrated. Meanwhile, my fellow waitees were similarly stressed and not in the mood for mingling; only giving a slight nod when I entered. Not that I really want to discuss a tv going up my ass, but you think we could muster a good waiting room conversation at least once a year.
nervously and tried to think about other things, but let’s face it, there’s just not that much to look at that’s intellectually stimulating in a waiting room. There are never any windows, and most of the magazines cover women’s fashions leaving men to wade through stacks of girly advice to find that one Sports Illustrated. Meanwhile, my fellow waitees were similarly stressed and not in the mood for mingling; only giving a slight nod when I entered. Not that I really want to discuss a tv going up my ass, but you think we could muster a good waiting room conversation at least once a year.
“Mike” came the clear booming yell. I’m sure this came from years of men taking every opportunity to mis-hear their name spoken at a level of conversation in the waiting room. As a result, nurses were taught at nursing school to access their diaphrams with the skill of a ten year opera star.
I gave a long last look of my own to my wife not having researched if anyone ever actually died from a colonoscopy. For the most part, I was resigned to it, and even a new unpleasant experience is a new experience, so I rounded the corner like a man entering a UFO for an anal prob. What’s that for, why are there so many television screens, why have I seen so many people go in and nobody come out? My nurse looked 17, and I sincerely hoped she would not be the one inserting the camera because I was in serious doubt she had ever attended a prom. Female doctors are not an issue for me, I just was pulling for someone with a few grays like me and a good aim. The curtains were parted and there sat a wide, flat examination table dressed up to look like a bed. I was given a few simple instructions, but all I heard was “stack your clothes in the corner” as I grabbed the bleak blue hospital gown. I carefully folded my socks and underwear and hopped under a sheet just in time for a light knock at the door. It was a gray haired man in a white hospital coat with a clipboard. His wasted no time explaining he was my doctor and quickly turned at a calculated distance to have his steel gray eyes meet mine. He confirmed that this was my first visit, then asked if I had reviewed the literature explaining that a low percentage of visitors had complications due to the mechanism catching and tearing a fold in the lining of the colon. Great, a lifetime of unhealthy eating and I’m going to go because of an irregular fold. I nodded because I did seem to read something, but I didn’t worry about my odds since 50 was still young on the colonoscopy scale.