Last week a friend of mine (you know who you are) went through what I’m about to tell you, so I thought I would let them read about my first one. (You’ll have to read further if you want to find out what it is I’m talkin’ about). I hope you enjoy it as much as I hated goin’ through it.

A couple of weeks ago, I went through my annual (give a year or two) physical checkup. Man, I dread those things. It ought to be against the law to have to pay to get that stuff done to you. Visiting with my doctor, is the only part of the whole process I enjoy. Of course, he is a little more reserve about what he says to me than he used to be. He, like everybody else, is scared of what I might say about him if I decide to write a story. It’s getting where nobody will talk to me anymore. Oh well, that’s life.  

Now, I’m not goin’ to tell you what all went on during the physical, because it ain’t none of your business, but I will let you in on some of it. Actually the exam was just about over and Doc and I were just talkin’. Well, I was talkin’. He was lookin’ at my records.

“Rusty,” he said. “By looking at your family history, I think it would be wise for you to have a colonoscopy.”

“Well, Doc,” I said. “I ain’t much on takin’ medicine, especially if it taste bad, but if you can get them to flavor it up some, and you think I need it, well, I’m game.” He just looked at me.

“You don’t know what a colonoscopy is, do you?”

“Not a clue,” I replied. “But I trust you. If you think I need it, I’ll give it a try.”

“Let me explain,” he said. And he did.

By the time he finished explaining what a colonoscopy was, I wasn’t feelin’ too well. “Is it hot in here to you Doc?” I asked.

“No,” he replied.

“Then why am I sweatin’ so?”

“Look,” he said. “It’s not all that bad  You won’t even be awake during the procedure.”

I swallowed hard. “Will you be doin’ this?”

“No,” he said. “We’ll send you to a specialist.”

“You mean there’re people who have to do this for a livin’? Man, what a crummy job.”

Now, if you don’t know what a colonoscopy is, well, then call your doctor and ask him, ‘cause I ain’t tellin’ you. Heck, I still get nauseated just thinkin’ about it. I will tell you this. It requires some kind of video camera on a hose and a bucket of grease.

Anywho, my doctor set me up an appointment with another doctor, and one of his nurses gave me a call.  

“Mr. Mitchum,” she said. “Would you like me to explain the procedure to you?”

“No thanks,” I said.  Hearing it from a man was embarrassing enough. “I get the gist.”

Then she told me to go buy something called Fleet, and explained when to take it. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of this stuff or not, but let me tell you somethin’. Nitroglycerin doesn’t have anything on this stuff. It comes in a little biddy bottle, but man it packs a wallop. I had to take half of the bottle the night before the exam, and the other half the next morning. Well, let me tell you, I caught up on my readin’ that night, that’s for sure. Man, that stuff is tough. It would be good stuff to take if you wanted to get rid of a bad cough too. One swig of that stuff, and in about thirty minutes, you won’t dare cough.

Well, the next day, my wife Janet hauled me up to the doctor. As we sat in the waiting room, I felt like all those other people were lookin’ at me, knowin’ what was fixin’ to take place.

“I sure wish that doctor would hurry up,” I whispered to Janet. “I’m ready to get this over with.” 

“I heard he was running a little behind,” she said, and then she grinned real big.

“You think that’s funny?” I said.

“Yeah, I do,” she replied. Then they called my name. Well, sort of.

You see my real name is Rayburn Mitchum, Jr. Rusty is a nickname my dad gave me back when I was a baby.  Well, the nurse read my name wrong when she asked for me.

“Reverend Mitchum?” she said. I looked at Janet.

“Reverend?” I said and looked back at the nurse. “You mean Rayburn?”

The nurse looked at the chart she was holding. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I read that wrong, didn’t I?”

“Boy, that’s an understatement,” said Janet. I glared at her.

“Follow me, please,” said the nurse. “You can come to, Mrs. Mitchum.”

“Does she have to?” I said.

“Be quiet,” said Janet.

We went into a room and then to a little bed behind a curtain. The nurse handed me a little piece of cloth and said, “Take off your clothes and put this gown on. The opening goes to the back,” then she left.  

“That’s a gown?” I said looking at the little thing. I started taking off my clothes. I looked up and Janet was watching me. “Would you turn around?” I said.  Janet rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just not feeling very sexy at the moment.”  

“Brother,” she sighed. “You are such an idiot.”

Finally, I got the little gown on and climbed onto the bed. It wasn’t long before the nurse that brought me in was back with another nurse.

“Mr. Mitchum,” she said. “I need to read to you what will be happening and then get you to sign saying you understand.”

“Lady,” I said. “I know what’s fixin’ to happen. Give me the pen.”

“You do not want me to tell you again?”

“Not unless you want me to either puke or die right here.”

She smiled. “I’m sorry, but I have to tell you.”

“Rusty,” said Janet sweetly. “Just go to your happy place.”

“Ma’am,” I said to the nurse. “Would you please get this lady out of here? She says she’s my wife, but I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

Well, she ignored my request and read to me what was on her sheet, and I signed it. The other nurse started pulling my bed out to take me to who knows where.

“Wait,” I said. “Can I say something to my wife before I go?”

“How sweet,” the nurse said.

“Bend down, here,” I said to Janet. I kissed her, then whispered, “If I don’t make it, please don’t tell anybody how I died. Okay?”

“I won’t,” said Janet. “I’ll be too busy spending that insurance money anyway.”

“That’s my girl,” I said, and they rolled me out.

She rolled me into a dark room full of equipment like you would see in the laboratory in a Frankenstein movie.

“The doctor will be right in,” she said sweetly.

“Thanks,” I replied. Then the doctor walked in.

“Well,” he said. “Any questions?”

“Not really,” I said. “Just knock me out, and don’t scrimp on the grease.” He just smiled.

It wasn’t long, before another nurse came in and put an IV in my arm. “Relax, Mr. Mitchum,” she said. “The next thing you know you’ll be wondering when we are going to start, but we will have finished.” You know, she was right.

The next thing I knew I was looking at a nurse and asking her for a drink of water.

Well, thank the Good Lord everything was okay. It looks like I’ll be around a little longer. Now that it’s over with, it really wasn’t bad at all. What’s that old saying? “The anticipation of death is worse than death itself.” Well the same holds true for a colonoscopy.

If you’re around 50 or have a family history of colon cancer, see your doctor. The embarrassment of an exam is nothing like the alternative. Plus, I can’t afford to lose any of y’all readers. 

 

All Rights reserved      4/16/99