All Checked Out

Party in a jug!

I am really embarrassed to admit something, so I will do what I always do when this happens. I will admit it to a couple hundred friends, and even perfect strangers, who read my blog and newsletter. The idea is to confess my shame in public--the way medieval penitents wore hairshirts out in the streets—and then, hopefully, never make that particular mistake again.  

So here goes.

 

I’m a little late scheduling my colonoscopy. Like 15+ years late. Oh, I got the first one right on time. All I recall was what most people recall—the disgusting prep. Then I was knocked out cold. I do remember the doctor saying after I came to, "Everything looks fine now, but make sure you keep up with your regular testing schedule.” I immediately defined “regular testing schedule" as “15+ years from now,” and then went on with my unexamined colon, and life.

 

But wait! it gets worse. I have had less than half of the mammograms you are supposed to undergo. I neglected my teeth for years (NOT 15+ years! That would be ridiculous!), and then had to have a tooth extracted. The anesthesia didn’t really take, so I basically reenacted the dental torture scene with Dustin Hoffman and Laurence Olivier in Marathon Man. Never again! I swore.  And I haven’t—even though I have another tooth that is cracked and probably should also be excised from my mouth at some distant point in the future. Regular blood work? Gynecologist visits? Dermatologist to look at some suspicious spots on my legs? Oh, please!

 

I've been feeling that “radical self-care” is a form of egomania. Why should I fuss and fret over myself? Isn’t that rather conceited of me? Why am I so darned important? I’d much rather badger Steve to have his cataracts removed, or advise a church friend to seek medical help when their flu keeps hanging on. “Take care of yourselves!” I tell them, rather sternly. “I want to hear you’ve made that appointment!”  And, bless them, they usually do as I say (not as I do).

 

But age 70 is looming on my horizon, and it’s finally occurring to me that I can probably lengthen my remaining lifespan with more regular tune ups. So I’ve decided to get it all done this year--much like pulling into the Gulf station and telling your mechanic, “Oh, go ahead and replace the tires, fix the oil leak, change the spark plugs and put on new brakes--I’m here getting a tank of gas anyway!”

 

Say, that gives me a genius idea! A chain of medical quick marts called “Insta-Med!” You enter the bay. A skilled physician hoists you up and gets to work on you from head to toe. In less than an hour, you’re back on the road, with an inspection sticker, good as new!

 

So, why don’t one of YOU run with this concept?  I promise I’ll swing on by for body work! 

 

Every 15+ years or so. Definitely. 

Probably.

photo by Engin Akyurt on Unsplash