Life is measured by milestones: The transition from infant to toddler is marked by the first step. The transition from boy to man is marked by the first kiss and recently I marked the entrance to middle age: the first colonoscopy.
If you want to split hairs, I am a trifle young for the procedure, but thanks to my family history my doctor advised me to have the test. Feeling virtuous, I expected to be lauded for my decision, but that was not to be. Once I assured everyone that I was not experiencing any symptoms, family, friends, and coworkers all thought I was crazy to have the test done. “You’re too young,” they said, “wait a while.”
The hospital was no more supportive. Two days before my procedure, Carol from the admissions office called and told me I needed to bring them a cashier’s check for $2000. Thinking that I could find more enjoyable ways to spend $2000, I told them that my health insurance would cover the procedure, but Carol told me my insurance did not cover “elective procedures.” When I asked since when a colonoscopy was regarded as “elective” she told me (I am not making this up) that insurance would not pay for a “frivolous procedure” and she hung up.
Now I readily admit that from time to time I have I have succumbed to frivolous pleasures, mainly during Spring Break in the 70’s and generally involving vodka. The thought that I had reached an age where my idea of some lighthearted fun included a colon exam was disturbing, so I called Mark. Mark, my best friend since college, had been with me for many of my frivolous Spring Break escapades and he saw the irony of the situation. “I can’t believe I am telling you this,” I said. “I can’t believe I find it interesting,” he said.
Eventually my insurance company confirmed that the procedure was covered, so I called the hospital again. This time I got Josie who apologized for the misinformation her colleague gave me. “You’ll have to forgive Carol,” said Jo, “she thought a colonoscopy was a cosmetic procedure.” Brushing aside all thoughts of having a younger-looking, firmer colon, the procedure was rescheduled with a strict admonition from Josie: “No food the day before,” she said. “Only clear liquids.”
This was, beyond a doubt, the worst part of the process, You see, I eat a lot. Continually, in fact. When I am not eating I am either planning my next meal, or reading reviews of new restaurants or watching the Food channel; it’s a wonder I am not 400 pounds. Obsessing over a day spent without solid food I called Mark again and we made a list of clear liquids: “Broth?” I asked, “apple juice?” Mark suggested vodka. “It’s clear,” he said. “It’s liquid,” I said. And so, fortified with vodka and apple juice, I made my defiant transition to a frivolous middle age and another milestone was passed.