I turned 50 this past year. And, when I went for my annual physical, my doctor recommended what I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear. He wanted me to get a colonoscopy. So it goes.
I made an appointment with the colorectal surgeon who was recommended by my doctor. The appointment was unremarkable but I did get to meet the man who would be examining the inside of my ass. Nice guy too. They also scheduled me for the procedure for the Friday morning before Thanksgiving. Assuming all went well, I would have something additional to be thankful for.
In case you are unfamiliar with colonoscopies, those who have undergone one will tell you that the “prep” in advance of the actual procedure is the worst part. In contrast, the people who have never had one usually suffer a lot of anxiety over the thought of a scope being inserted far up their butt. What they don’t realize is that the anesthesia is so powerful, that during the procedure, they won’t even realize or remember that some guy they probably met only once is looking up their ass for polyps, gerbil skeletons and toy cars. As it turns out, the “prep” really is the worst part. It goes like this. If you are scheduled for a Friday morning colonoscopy, you have your last real meal on Wednesday night. After midnight, you are restricted to liquids and a concoction of laxatives, followed by about seven hours of shitting your brains out.
Faced with the prospect of a last supper followed by a day of just liquids, I decided I should make my last meal a good one. I decided to go to Barcelona’s where I knew my father would be hanging out with his friends. I also thought it would be a good place to get some sympathy since most of the patrons are well older than I am and probably have all had colonoscopies themselves. http://www.barcelona-albany.com/
As I sauntered in and greeted the people I knew, I espied my father at the far end of the bar talking to a couple I have known for quite a few years. After catching up a bit with Dad, I announced that I had come for my last solid food before my colonoscopy. I was soon treated to the medical histories of my father and the couple he was talking with. I thought to myself – Awesome! After worrying about it by myself, or talking about it with my daughter or others who had never undergone a colonoscopy, I suddenly no longer felt alone in the world. How very refreshing, I thought. I even told them how good it was to be able to discuss my impending procedure with other people experienced in the way of colon invasions. They all immediately understood and emphasized the importance of spending time with old people, even though they didn’t phrase it quite that way.
There’s something you should know about Sid Stein and the way he interacts with Albany area residents. After publishing my book, “A Little on the Side – The Married Man’s Ultimate Guide to Cheating or How to Save Your Marriage,” people expect me to be somewhat outrageous with my humor. I wouldn’t exactly call it a burden, but when I am out and about, I always get the feeling that people expect me to make them laugh and roll their eyes at the same time. So, I do my best to indulge them, especially when I have the proper fodder for the humor mill.
While everyone was laughing at my colon jokes, my father took credit for my sense of humor. I commented that it had skipped a generation. It was fairly easy making a few jokes about colonoscopies, gerbil skeletons and the like. You can find some of the jokes on Google. They are a bit half-assed, but some are cute. Then, just as I was running out of material, Patty walked over. Patty is a sweet and petite Irish gal (my father likes to call them gals) who is about my age.
Patty is a quiet and reserved woman who never seems to have a steady boyfriend. As far as I can tell, the only constant in her life is her friendship with Max, a short, cute old man in his eighties. Max is quite remarkable. Sometime after he was widowed, he took up skydiving and was even featured in the local newspaper. He has over 100 jumps. Max likes to go out, chat with people and drink wine. He especially enjoys the company of Patty, who escorts him around town to various bars. Although I am quite convinced that there is no sexual component to their relationship, it is pretty clear that Max adores Patty and cherishes their friendship. And why shouldn’t he?
It’s clear that Patty enjoys Max’s company as well. He is the definition of a gentleman. No doubt he also buys her drinks, at least now and then. However, if there is one liability to Patty’s friendship with Max, it’s that some people, at least in jest, ask her if she is romantically connected to Max. I didn’t actually learn about this kink in Patty’s life until that very night at Barcelona’s. A while after Patty had joined us, I commented that Max looked lonely at the other end of the bar and must be missing his girlfriend. Patty’s reaction was immediate and took me by surprise. Indignantly, she forcefully denied that there was anything between her and Max. “I am not his girlfriend!” WHOA! Who knew?
Well, after getting such a strong reaction, there was no way I could drop it. I had already enjoyed a plate of chicken vodka and a few vodkas to wash it down. So, I said to Patty, “Come on, Patty, everyone knows that Max is in love with you. He adores you, not to mention you two are inseparable.” Patty was turning red, half from embarrassment and half from getting her Irish up. “There is nothing between me and Max,” she insisted. “We are just good friends!” “Who are you kidding?” I continued. “I can tell when someone is in love, and Max is clearly in love. Look how he is pining for you at the other end of the bar.” Patty glared at me. “Max is not in love with me. We are just good friends.” “Be serious, Patty,” I said. “No doubt Max hires some guy to masturbate for him while he fantasizes about you.”
Oops! I guess I went a little too far. I looked at my father who was now as red as Patty. Totally embarrassed. Poor guy. He commented to his other friends listening to the exchange between Patty and me that I get my sense of humor from my mother’s side of the family. Disavowed by my own father!
Oh, by the way. The colonoscopy went fine.
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