I realize that I’ve been mute more than I’ve been cute these past few days. Making my fieldwork travel arrangements has eaten up most of my time. However, today I’ll be enduring the climax of the two-day ordeal that is the truly dreadful experience known as the ‘screening’ colonoscopy. [Larry, my dear old friend, will no doubt be ‘liking’ this blurt, since he’s only recently been given an all clear after undergoing the successful treatment for the disease the fear of which has convinced me that I must now do this thing.]
As much as I appreciate the ‘need to know’ if my body is planning on accelerating my inevitable demise, the medical community couldn’t have devised a less appealing regimen if what they wanted to do was encourage men to undergo the procedure. I know. I know. Whiner.
Finally seeing the good sense of doing this, I’ve decided, is part of a syndrome–my having a colonoscopy, I mean. It goes along with the rapidly approaching 60th anniversary of my birth, which, believe it or not, has me thinking more and more about the hereafter. For reals? Yep. It’s been happening for years, and I haven’t wanted to let anyone know, ’cause after all I’m an atheist, and I’ve always been proud of my intellectual side. And seeing the latter being pushed aside by the emotions associated with advancing age is not easy to bear. But, I have to tell you what it’s really like. As I said, I’ve been wondering for some time about what ‘life’ would be like on the other side of 60 and beyond. And nowadays I’ll find myself entering a comfortable and familiar space like my bedroom or my equally familiar but often happily avoided workplace and asking myself ‘What the Hell did I come in here after?’
I’ll see you on the other side…of the operating theatre I mean! I’ll save that other ‘transition’ until much later, thank you very much!