Bringing Myself Down to Earth

I had a few days after retirement planned. They were good. Relaxing. Happy. Varied. All that you want in the early days of owning your days. We literally gloried in them. I also had time to think about and appreciate all that had happened at my retirement party. The people, the good wishes, the gifts, and finally the naming of the clinic after me. The last one was so huge that I am still processing what that means and firmly committing to live a life worthy of that honour. I felt lauded. 

Then the second week came, it was one full of appointments. I had the nurse on Monday, the doctor on Tuesday, a trip to a clinic in Toronto for a second opinion on Wednesday and on Thursday I had to prepare for a colonoscopy. Drinking huge amounts of foul-tasting 'flavoured' liquid only to later expel huge amounts of foul-smelling liquid. I wondered at the idea of giving someone who moves very slowly, the runs. But it did what it was supposed to do.

Friday I went for the test. I arrived and they agreed to let Joe in with me to help. Soon, I was laying on a bed in the hallway, trying to relax for a test that I was scared of. I'd never had one before. I spent time thinking again about the last few days, the retirement, the people, the time, everything. Then suddenly they were there taking me into the examination room. I met my doctor for the first time and he told me that he'd be gentle. I was shown a huge video monitor. I was told that I could watch the procedure if I wanted.

The camera was turned on. I saw the floor and the doctors feet and legs. Then it was brought up and closed in. I thought "what's that" before realizing with a shock that I was seeing my bumhole. Really up close. Huge on the screen. It looked like it wanted a cookie.

That's life for me.

One day a beautiful day.

The next day.

My butt on the screen.

I am always brought to earth, quickly, my feet walk firmly on the ground.

(ps. I am fine, I'm just getting check-ups, the colonoscopy was good)