In a couple of years, I'm going to hit a life milestone that has nothing to do with financial goals or control of my time. My First Colonoscopy. The words read like an utterly forgettable children's book (turns out someone else thought so, too).
My wife and I have never met a gastroenterologist who wasn't profoundly humane, hilarious, or both. The specialty seems to attract the comedians in medicine. They are admittedly less funny when you are the emergency physician calling for a consult on a sick patient at 3AM, but most retain their good nature under extreme circumstances.
I was trying to figure out how to frame this upcoming milestone, the right perspective with which to approach an invasive procedure that seems improper to mention in polite company.
After giving it some thought, I've decided I'm going to hold a colonoscopy party. Invite friends over, making it the central theme of a celebration.
This offers multiple advantages over silent resignation and compliance:
- My kids and I could easily spend a delightful evening brainstorming what to call the event.
- The high fiber hors d'oeuvres could be really interesting.
- Mi[rala]xed drinks.
- Many close friends, by virtue of being male and poor stewards of their own health, are unlikely to pursue screening colonoscopies. Holding a party will either put the procedure on their radar, or (with greater impact) put it on their wives' radar. The latter increases the odds substantially that they'll get it done.
- I had propofol sedation for a prior endoscopy, and it was the best sleep I've ever had. While I'm not inclined to chemical indulgence, a small part of this insomniac might look forward to the opportunity for another restful bit of sleep.
Where others may see only future abdominal cramping, I intend to create fun. Make it about more than just transient personal discomfort. After all, there is no "I" in polyp.
How have you tried to reclaim the narrative of aging?