You're nothing if you don't have your health. So sayeth the conventional widsom. On my last trip to the doctor, he didn't strongly suggest I get a colonoscopy, he arranged for the referral (necessary for the insurance company). Yesterday, I went in for the initial check. Big deal -- fill out the health history forms (don'tcha think *one* doctor could send a summary to the *other* doctor?), get my blood pressure taken, and allow the doctor to -- how can I put this delicately? -- palpate my prostate. (He liked it.) Quick test for blood in the stool comes up negative. Doctor shakes my hand and directs me to the nurse/clerk to make an appointment for the colonoscopy.

The n/c tells me that, no matter what, I have to have someone to drive me there and back for the procedure, because they sedate you for it. (I don't know why -- the doctor said the instrument is no bigger around than his finger, and I handled that with ease. No sniggering about gay men, if you please.) We settle on Thursday so that I can have Bill-the-honeybear do the driving -- although the n/c says I won't have the doctor I saw today doing the test (doesn't matter to me). Thursdays, he's at the hospital, and while I can have the test done there, it becomes an all-day procedure rather than -- she doesn't exactly say how long, but gives the impression it's only a couple of hours.

Then she gives me the instructions. (1) Fill prescription for something called Colyte, designed to help clean me out (at least it comes in five delicious flavors) Take the Colyte hourly starting at 4:00 p.m. Wednesday until it's all gone. (2) My medications: take half doses on Wednesday, nothing on Thursday before the test. (3) Food: nothing solid after 1:00 p.m. Wednesday. Clear liquids (broth, water, clear fruit juices (not orange), ginger ale, coffee, tea. Jell-O is allowed, but not red (looks like blood) or green (looks like feces). (4) Nothing at all after 6:00 a.m. Thursday -- but anything I want after the test.

And all this because I'm over 50.

Then there are the standard "chances of anything going wrong" statements. 1 in 1000 that the instrument will break through the colon or bowel wall, which necessitates surgery. 1 in 1000 that there will be some bleeding related to the test. The one I like best: 1 in 1.8 million that I'll die. (I must check out if that's better or worse than my chances of car accident, plane crash, or lightning strike.) And just to make me feel better, they ask if I have an advance directive, living will, or some such, and would I bring a copy with me please.

I hate this. I'm afraid of this. I know it's necessary, but that knowledge doesn't make the hate and fear go away.

In case you were wondering: My sister managed to get through everything Mother Nature threw at Florida recently with only minor consequences. Her stepson and his wife had slightly more damage (they live in Punta Gorda, the area where Charley made landfall) but still came out mostly OK. Other members of the wife's family were hit with varying degrees of damage -- her mother is looking at this as an opportunity to get her husband to move, finally, to their vacation house on the opposite coast. But my family came out pretty much fine.

Two weeks to go, and I still don't know who I'm voting for. Not Bush -- the FMA and the incredible mess in post-war Iraq make him the wrong man for the job. Not Kerry -- nothing he says seems to jibe with what he said yesterday, or a year ago, or on 9/12, or any point in his 20 year Senate career. (By the way, why haven't I heard anything about Kerry's Senate record? Seems to me that would be a better indicator of what the man stands for than what he did/didn't in Vietnam, or his work with Vietnam Veterans Against the War.) Now, my opinion may change -- there's still two weeks left -- but right now, I'm still not sure.

Didja notice? You can post comments on my posts now -- a new-ish feature of Blogspot. Just remember, this blog is still all about me.