Sedated, violated, and worries abated
August is my time of year for catching up on any outstanding medical issues. Luckily I don't have many, but there was one thing that has been niggling at me for a while, so I bit the bullet last week, let them drug me up, turned on my side in a vague daze, and let them violate me. Those of you with sensitive stomachs should perhaps not read on. Or then again, maybe you should, because, in a way, this is all about sensitive stomachs.
About four years ago, I joined the club that dare not speak its name and succumbed to my first colonoscopy. The findings at the time were slightly alarming, in that there was a bit of removing of things, and the word "pre-cancerous" was used. Pre-cancerous is not as bad as it sounds, apparently. As I freaked out at the time, the doc assured me that it just meant I was very lucky I had come to him. But still, anything with the word cancer in it, even with the qualifications "pre" and "ous", sends a cold shiver down the spine. He told me I was a bit young to have anything needing removing, so he said to come back in two years for another look.
So obviously I put it off for longer, putting it out of my head apart from the odd late night/early morning, when I lay there thinking about how they would say: "He was told to go back, but he put it out of his head, because he didn't want to know. And when he finally went in, they told him he was a goner." Because that's how it goes apparently. Someone had helpfully told me after the original violation that you could have no symptoms whatsoever, and it would be too late when you did notice anything. And you could be coming in to be told you were brown bread. And guess what? I HAD NO SYMPTOMS!