Last year I went to my doctor for my annual visit. All went well until the end of the visit. The doctor knew I was retiring and my insurance would change beginning in September. He brought up the subject of a test he thought I should have.
I admit that I wasn’t surprised because of my age and never having had the test done before. You know which one – the one where you get to drink the most delicious concoction and not leave the house because you had to be close to the bathroom. He asked me how I felt about this. I could have said, “Thanks, but no thank you” or “It’s really a pain in the ….” Instead, I said, “Sure.” I knew it had to be done.
He set me up with an appointment with the gastro guy, I mean doctor, in his practice. I had an appointment to see him the following week.
When I arrived for my appointment, I was taken back to an office by a nurse. She took all of the needed information and filled me in on what I had to do and what I would need to buy to clean me out. I never saw the doctor. (I should note that he is one of Kathy’s doctors. I have met him through her, but never saw him as a patient. She likes him and he is helping her.)
The day before the test I prep. I will not go into details, other than to say that I didn’t get much sleep that night.
The day of the test Kathy took me since I needed to have a driver. I was taken back to the holding tank, I mean waiting/recovery area and prepped. I still hadn’t seen the doctor.
When it was my turn I was wheeled back to the room where the procedure would be performed. I vaguely remember the doctor coming but was out cold before I could say anything. I still didn’t see him and I don’t think he saw my face either…other parts, yes, but not my face.
When it was over and I was back in recovery the doctor did come to tell me how things went. He said everything looked good and I was good to go for 10 years. I was relieved to hear this.
He then handed me a picture of what he saw inside. I felt like saying, “I want this because…?” , but he walked away.
So, what do I do with this picture? Do I put it on the wall next to family photos? Do I get wallet size prints to hand out to friends or pull out and show when other people start showing off their children and grandchildren? I’m sure that would go over in a big way.
I know, whenever anyone tells me I’m full of s**t I can pull it out and say, “I am not and here’s the proof.”