THERE IS A *W*H*A*T* UP MY ASS?!?

WARNING - WARNING - NO ILLUSTRATIONS PROVIDED - If you only like picture books, do not bother reading any further.

"A colonoscopy is used to view the inside of your lower digestive tract (colon and rectum). "

Translation - a CAMERA gets stuck up your BUTT and take PHOTOS which get posted on YouTube, FoxNews and the back of every milk carton in the state of Tennessee.

Okay, maybe not the milk cartons.

But they COULD.

It's suggested that once you hit 50, you should have a colonoscopy done - just to check if cancer is lurking somewhere in your digestive track.

And I have a friend whose father died kinda early from colon cancer, so she has undergone one of these every year since her early forties.

Okay, let's get it over and done with.

My own physician readily agrees, and refers me to the local gastroenterology office (number 1., I can't believe that is a a real word and number 2., yes, I did spell it correctly).

After the first appointment, I should have been smart and simply canceled the whole thing.

Some doctors have a wonderful, welcoming attitude that makes you want to pour out your innermost digestive secrets immediately.

And there are some who don't.

The doctor came into the exam room with an entourage of fluttering nurses surrounding him, wearing a smug face of pure arrogance - was my ass going to be good enough for him to stick his camera up?

While his Porche or Hummer is being paid for by MY health insurances.

Perhaps I had assumed that someone who deals daily with anals, rectums and fecal matter would automatically have some humility.

The procedure was scheduled, and I procured the required medication to begin at 4 p.m. the day preceding the exam.

From here on is where you do not want any illustrations.

Slightly larger than a gallon container of milk, and empty except for an ominous layer of white powder on the bottom, the pharmacist kindly offered to put it in a bag for me.

When I inquired as to why, she blushed and stammered out "well... so people don't know what you are having done!"

After a full day of only fluids, I was able to choose from four different flavorings (I still can't believe they did not have chocolate), filled the container with water, vigorously shook it until all the powder was dissolved and then...

(** shudder **)

... drank a 8 oz. glass of the somewhat thick and mildly repulsive tasting mixture EVERY FIFTEEN MINUTES until the ENTIRE amount was gone.

I didn't throw any of it up... but man, did I want to.

Now the actual procedure was a breeze - I slept through it all. In fact, I was asleep before the anesthesiologist has administered more than a couple of ccs of whatever the white stuff was he put into my I.V.

I didn't even see the arrogant doctor - at ALL.

However, I am counting on all of you to inform me when the photos are posted in any sort of public forum.

RUNNING INTERFERENCE

Translation is often necessary when my second daughter has any sort of appointment.

For both parties.

Today she saw a doctor, a specialist in orthopedics.

And I vowed, to her on the drive to the doctor's, and also to the doctor during the initial exam, to remain "a fly on the wall", be only an observer, make no comments, and allow Joy to handle all of the conversation.

I am and have been for YEARS trying to encourage Joy to ask questions and for explanations when she doesn't follow and/or understand what they are asking/requesting/or-blowing-steam-about.

Because, although I try not to mention it very often to Joy, because she then dissolves into tears, I am not going to be around forever, and I am (and have been for years) attempting to help her be more self-sufficient.

However.

...At this particular appointment, when we arrived, the waiting room was more than full.

Overflowing. Teeming. Spilling all over.

And the people waiting were obviously NOT happy.

We waited about 45 minutes - I turned the volume completely off on the waiting-room-TV after the 15th report of how H1N1 (the-flu-formally-known-as-swine- flu) is invading the United States and turning us all into zombies who will blindly follow Obama into Muslim terrorism.... can you tell that the television was turned to FoxNews?

The nurse finally called us into an exam room. It was small, nothing to read but the doctor's certificates on the wall, and we sat there for another half hour.

Then the doctor, obviously still in over-drive rush to get caught up, leapt into the room, flipped through Joy's file at lightening speed, and said, "well, let's do the x-rays again!" and flew right back out again.

It took about a half hour to get the x-rays taken (thankfully it was at least in the same building) - at least we got a sit someplace different.

Then back into another small exam room - but at least this one had the People issue from June 2005 and a Time magazine about Christianity being banned in the U.S.

Joy needed to visit the ladies' room, and just a few minutes after she 'stepped out,' the doctor jumped back in, x-rays in hand, and began to spout off about "it obviously isn't arthritis, so let's do the injections again and she should come back..."

I stopped him.
Which isn't always easy with a professional.

It also helps that I was bigger than him.

(And does that guy to the right remind you of Jim Halpert? He does to me!)

But he did pause, and he did listen as I explained that he needed to slow down about 85% so Joy could understand him.

And that he needed to STOP AND LISTEN.

Amazingly enough, HE DID.

And he spent probably 20 minutes with my daughter, explaining, on her level, what was wrong with her knees, what was not, and together they even came up with another treatment plan.

It was extremely satisfying.

IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE?

I grew up with television. It was a black-and-white set, with the rabbit ears that needed to be re-aligned every night, or someone had to stand next to the television holding it to actually watch a show. And as the youngest in the family, I was normally that one.

We got six channels - even when living in Los Angeles. Adam-12 - Bewitched - Dick Van Dyke Show - the assassination of JFK - shooting of Martin Luther King, Jr.

So today I am more than a little spoiled with satellite, color, hundreds of channels, HD... and hopefully someday DVR even.

And problems which are solved so neatly within 30 minutes (well, 24 actually) or an hour long show. I love House especially - mostly because he is so obnoxious, rude but has incredible lines - but also because there is a four person team working full-time on one problem, one patient, for the length of the show.

So when Dr. House says, "Okay, let's get a LCD, TAC and SOB test on the patient, and run an MRI and CAT scan," the interns immediately go draw the blood from the patient, run the lab tests themselves, and walk right down to the obviously empty and ready radiology lab - and so have the results within 25 seconds of the show, and always within the same day as ordered.

As opposed to reality.

Where you get a piece of paper from your doctor's office, after a visit that you or your health insurance pays for.

The next time you can be at least one hour late for work, you eat nothing after midnight, and join the line of people waiting for the lab to open at 6:45 a.m.

You take the number 874 from the number dispenser, and try not to panic that the number on the LED display is currently 24.

You wait in a hideously crowded waiting room trying very hard not to breath, surrounded by coughing people, crying children with running noses, and FOX News blasting at high volume.

You finally are called into the lab, where a bored-looking lab tech spends eight minutes prodding your arm, finally poking the largest size needle available, and drains enough blood from your body to supply at least five full-time vampires for the next week.

You stagger out, show up at work three hours late, and too drained to do anything productive for the rest of the workday... and honestly the next week.

Five weeks later, your doctor's office calls you, telling you that you need to schedule an appointment with the doctor to find out the results of the blood work.

One week later, after sitting in the doctor's waiting room for 45 minutes, chewing your nails, you find out from the nurse that your LDL level was a little high.

It's been one week and one day since they did a biopsy for skin cancer.

I shouldn't be upset that it is taking this long, should I?

THE EARLY BIRD GETS... LESS SLEEP

Never make a doctor's appointment to be seen at 7:45 a.m.

You might think, well, there wouldn't be any wasted time in the waiting room, because you'll be the first patient seen. You'll just skate in and skate out.

Ha.

I already had to wake up at 4 a.m. to see my son off to college (since I drove up to Tucson when he came down, his dad had to drive him up today to catch the flight back).

And since I often sleep right through the nice CD player alarm I have (probably because it isn't the best idea to have something calm and soothing like Jim Brickman to wake you up), I thought, hey, let's use my CELL PHONE alarm. It's fairly loud, as every sound on my phone is (I'm partially deaf), so I was certain it would knock me out of slumber.

However, I did not really think it through, because for the alarm on my cell phone to work, you have to leave the phone ON.

So when one of your kids sweetly texts you a "Good Night, Mom!" at 1:02 a.m., IT WAKES YOU UP.

When a voice mail, left at 3:13 p.m. by your husband while he was at home and you were in town, finally comes wandering in after hanging in the cold air over Canada for almost twelve hours, IT WAKES YOU UP.

When your cell phone is programmed to 'beep' on the hour, IT WAKES YOU UP.

So going in to the doctor's at 7:45 a.m., after having... well, let's see, one hour and two minutes, plus two hours and eleven minutes, and then forty-seven minutes...

Well, let's just say it isn't worth it. Especially when it looks like both the doctor, his nurse, and the receptionist got every less sleep than you did.

Let's go get an extra-large Diet Coke and go take a nap. okay?