So you want to know how old I am. That's easy, 28. In all fairness, that's in metric (you Canadians and certain Europeans know what I'm talking about). In standard, I just turned 38 twelve, yes twelve years ago. So, if you're good at math as I am, you know I'm 50. There, I said it. But with turning 50 comes a funny story. I know you didn't ask for it, but you don't have to read it either.
First of all, let me say that I haven't celebrated a birthday since November of 2005. Just didn't feel the need, but that's another story. And let me also tell you how pissed I am in the first place, having to go through my midlife crisis (yes, I intend to live to be a hundred) without a corvette! Not fair! So to boot, this past November 30th I go to check my mail and what do I find in my box? A letter from my doctor notifying me of my upcoming colonoscopy. Coincidence? No, I don't think so. Now I had spoken with my doctor earlier in the year about it since I was approaching "that" age, whatever that's supposed to mean. But to be reminded of my birthday on my birthday with this? Not nice either! But in all fairness, I was excited about the colonoscopy because I had been missing a remote for a couple of months now. It's not what you think! Its just that everytime I would fart, the TV channel would change and the garage door would go up. You never know.
This is where the story gets interesting. Earlier in the year when I had talked to my doctor about the procedure, he had said that I would be sedated during the procedure and would need somebody to drive me home. Being new to Colorado and a single parent, I didn't have anybody to drive me home. So he said that I would have to spend the night in Denver because I could not drive home on my own. Fair enough.
So the procedure is in January and I make arrangements for my daughter to spend the night at her friends house so I could go to the Denver VA hospital which was about 200 miles north of me. On D day I go. I check in and they see that I am going to be needing lodging so they ask me if I had a person to stay with me. What? I'm staying because I didn't have a person to drive me! I'f I had a person which they claimed needed to be at least 18, I wouldn't need to spend the night. Jeeesh! As I would find out later, turns out the problem was they were going to send me to a local hotel and they can't turn over a sedated person, which is why they required a person to stay with you. So, at this point, not my problem. If you want to cancel the procedure, fine with me. But no, they send me to talk to the doctor who is going to perform the colonoscopy.
Now, I want to take a moment and tell you a little about myself and how I feel about this procedure, it's important. Above I was joking about looking forward to this colonoscopy, fact is, I was terrified. Not fond of having anything "shoved" up my bum. My Mom is to blame for that. She was of European descent and as children when we got sick, her choice of medication was suppositories. Do you know what a suppository is? I didn't either but was about to be educated. It's a miniature penis shaped wax looking piece that you insert in your anus! Yeah! I know! Ouch! She would tell us that the medication would get through our system much faster. She could have told me that a flying pony was going to come out of my ass when I farted and I still wouldn't have liked it! Oh! And her choice of thermometer? You guessed it, rectal! So as you can imagine (sorry about that visual) I wasn't going to be fond of this. Needless to say, in my household if you got sick, you sucked it up! No! I'm fine Mom!
Back to my story. But first, let me tell you about preparing for the procedure. Yes, you have to prepare. You know what they are going to be doing, so you know you are going to have to have your "plumbing" cleaned out. Prior to the procedure I get in the mail a two liter jug filled with a powder and instructions. And you know us men, instructions are for when all else fails. Basically you drink this stuff 24 hours before you have to leave home, you know, so there's no accidents along the way. Now this stuff was called "GoLitely" I'm guessing they called it that because "Buddy, you're gonna shit your pants!" was too harsh. It did its job. So I meet with the doctor and a nurse, (female, not that it mattered, but you know) and he has been made aware that I don't have anybody with me and the problem this poses. Problem? What problem, I still don't see a problem, I'll just go home and come back when I have somebody. But they wouldn't allow that. Said the preparing was the worst part. Really?
So my doctor explains to me that the option is to admit me into the emergency ward for the night. I'm cool with that, after all, all I need is a bed to sleep this off. But he explains to me that the cost of that is about $9000.00. Holy Mackerel! But the fact is, I didn't care. I wasn't paying for it. But for that price they could have sent me to the best hotel in town and booked me into a presidential suite! He then goes onto to tell me that some people have the procedure without sedation and then they can drive themselves home. WHAT?!?! Yes, he says, then we don't have to take on that enormous expense of the emergency ward. STOP! Hold the press! Did you hear that? Like I give a...... about the cost considering that the VA has been raking me over the coals for the last seven years with my disability. So I could care less what this is going to cost nor am I interested in saving uncle sam a few bucks at the expense of having a garden hose shoved up my bum, Oh, by the way, the unit was sitting right next to me and it was hanging on one of those tall I.V. bottle holders and the tube was longer than a day without beer! And if you are a beer drinker who's had to go a whole day without a beer, you know that's long!
So he looks at me and says, "Your choice, sedation, or no sedation? Now people, you don't know me. You don't know my personality, my demeanor. Maybe you can come to some conclusions based on my writings. But I'll tell you right up front they say I don't play well with others because I am brutally honest, very opinionated, judgemental and to boot, a free thinker. Well folks, let me tell you how I responded. I leaned in and looked at this doctor right in the eye and said, " If you come near me and try and shove "anything" up my rear while I am conscious, I will take it from you and beat you with it until you give me my drugs! Your choice, sedation, or no sedation?" The nurse, who was standing near by doing her thing pretending not to be in this tense conversation, bust up laughing and in doing so bends over and bumps in to the pole that was holding my soon to be new friend and knocks it over. I thought that I was finally getting out of this madness, but no, turns out they had a spare since this one was sterilized . Oh yes! The doctor chose sedation!
Okay, so they sedate me and I wandered off to the land of I don't care. And the fact is, I don't remember a thing. I do know that the procedure was at 12:30 and I remember waking up to somebody rolling me down a hall in a bed taking me to I guess to recovery. I ask him if all went well and he gives me the thumbs up. This guy could have been the janitor they asked to wheel me down the hall for all I know. But I got the answer I wanted and as he pushed me into my room I noticed it was 3:30 so I dozed off again. I woke up at 6:30 hungry as hell. I noticed that they had left me a dinner tray but it was yucky and cold. So, with a hospital band on my left arm, and an IV taped to my right arm, I get dressed and tell the staff I am going out to get something to eat. They technically couldn't stop me, they tried! But I'm an adult with hair on my... well you get the picture. I signed out, crossed the lot to the parking building, got in my truck and drove to downtown Denver with an IV in my arm to do what I had to do. I'm not trying to bragg, the point I make here is that I could have driven myself home.
When I got back to the hospital two hours later, they had taken bets on whether I was a "runner" or not. I didn't mind staying the night and at this point it was too late for me to leave, being in the care of the emergency room meant I would need to be signed out by a doctor and there were no doctors till the morning. I was up and ready to leave at 5:00, but no, I wouldn't get my walking papers til 8:00.
So, there you have it, my story on turning 50 at my age. You did ask how old I was, no?
