Tuesday, May 22, 2012
A Fashion Statement We Can All Live Without
If there is anything to which I can attest, it is that wisdom does not come with age; wisdom comes with experience. What comes with age is a colonoscopy and it is an inevitable event that you can put off for only so long. Eventually, like time and tide, and the weeds in the garden, its time will arrive and you will have to deal with it. I don't know about you, but even if it is Ozzy's secret fantasy to fly to New York and have a colonoscopy, it's not mine, not even for the trip to New York. That would be a new kind of plane-ride-hell; can you imagine trying to get to an empty head as you're yelling, "Outta my way! I'm prepping for a colonoscopy!"
Life can be cruel sometimes. One minute you're pulling an itchy training bra back down over your pubescent breasts because you're still really a kid and you've been hanging upside down on the jungle gym at school, and the next thing you know you're in the bathroom in the fourth iteration of your reading glasses pulling what appear to be colossal man-hairs out of your nasal septum in a magnifying mirror while silently cursing your husband for letting you go out in public with a mustache any twelve-year old boy would be proud not to shave. And while it's true that the other side of the equation is that some men appear to grow boobs as they get older (aside from the fact that a few of them are boobs), I find this a small consolation. It doesn't make up for the fact that I'm growing hair where I don't want it, like in and under my nose, and losing hair where I want to keep it, like on my head. And learning that the same percentage of women lose their hair as men do (roughly fifty percent- who knew?) doesn't make me feel any better, either. I can't really say I see myself as the turban-and-caftan type. Battle-axe-in-the-cadillac is not a secret aspiration of mine.
Something else I'm not too sure about is the idea of perfect strangers poking about in my nether regions, and I mean poking about literally. In my nether regions. My mother informs me that it's not as bad as all that; what is truly awful is the stuff you have to drink to get ready for it. She told the doctor that if the next colonoscopy isn't for another ten years, she thinks she might just rather be dead than do that again.
But the alternative is, and I have to keep reminding myself this, that if you are going to continue to live, wouldn't you really rather do it without a colostomy bag?
I mean, even if you could hide it in your caftan?
The answer is yes: I would rather continue to live without said colostomy bag, so yeah; I'm gonna go get my pooper scoped. The 29th of June. If you're fifty or over, and you haven't done it yet, you should really consider getting yours scheduled too.
Because you probably don't look any better in a caftan than I do.