At Least You’re not Full of S#@*!

And other ramblings about healthcare in my ‘golden years’

I was driving my husband to his colonoscopy the other morning. You know the drill: one person has to accompany the patient so as to safely drive the groggy patient home after his procedure. Anyway, there we were, cracking wise, finishing each other’s sentences and trying to outdo one another, as long-time married couples often do.

Me: This will be one of the few times when you’re not full of s#@*.

Him: Do you suppose they’ll find my head up there?

Or:

Me: We’re going to be late

Him: I’ll just tell the nurse we got a little ‘behind’ in our schedule.

Me: I’ll tell him you were scared ‘s#@*-less.’

We’re taking all these new medical tests in stride.

We’re both old enough now to determine what day of the week it is by what letter is on the pill organizer box. That is, if we’ve remembered to take our pills. I dislike taking pills and it seems the number of pills I have to take keeps increasing every year. Thankfully, most of them are just vitamins to offset the nutritional deficit of enjoying more cups of  Bailey’s Irish Cream® in my retirement than kale. My husband takes his pills like they’re Skittles®.

If you looked at my calendar, you’d think I was either enrolled in medical school or investigating a crime scene: mammogram, bone density, PAP smear, skin screening, chest x-ray, blood work-up, physical, EKG. The list goes on.

I’m pretty lucky; The last time I injured myself was slipping on the top step of a slick set of hardwood floor stairs and ‘luge-ing’ my way down the entire flight. No broken bones, thankfully, which was good news, although the resulting bruises made me look like a walking bag of plums for a week. My Mom was nonplussed about it: “Well, you passed your bone density test!”

My sisters and I prep each other for important doctors’ appointments by reminding ourselves to ‘dress nicely so you look like you’re worth saving if they diagnose anything.’ This piece of advice was given to us by our Mom, the same woman who told us about wearing clean underwear in case we somehow ended up in the Emergency Department. Some things are passed down from generation to generation, like genetics. Some of those things stick in your mind, unlike discharge instructions which seem to fly right out of mine almost as soon as I leave a physician’s office.

I’m not upset, really, by any of this; It means I’m still above ground, not below it, for one. But I am starting to think of my team of doctors as archeologists excavating the ancient ruins of a Boomer generation relic. Let’s hope I live a long time, as I understand relics are more interesting the older they are.

And as for that colonoscopy? Here’s to a good report and another five years before my husband has to do that again! Bottom’s up!