The Colonoscopy Epiphany

September 29, 2008

My writing audience (that is, the three or four people who have actually read my musings) has asked me what led me to start this blog.

I am a lifetime avid reader and information junkie who constantly has text running through her head; but that has been my experience pretty much forever.

So why now? Why start a daily blog now?

I can only attribute it to my colonoscopy ephiphany.

Three weeks ago, I participated in one of the most fabulous rites of the middle-aged; that is, I had my first colonoscopy.

The laws of aging in the US dictate that once you have reached the half-century mark, you must undergo a series of tests, sort of like the Twelve Labors of Hercules in medical testing form. These tests are designed to see which of your increasingly decrepit bodily systems will begin to fail first. Then, you can spend the next 80 years worrying that you will die immediately if you don't get your cholesterol below 200.

Undergoing the testing was, of course, the prudent thing for me to do. I have a family to care for, and a lot people depend on me, or at least so my inflated self-image would have me believe. I cannot live the feckless, who-cares-if-I-get-cancer-I-am-only-hurting-myself life. So, caring for myself becomes a moral imperative.

I had already undergone the physical, the gynecological exam, the blood tests, the mammogram, the walking on hot coals, and the bone density test, and passed all with, if not exactly flying colors, at least the assurance that I am not likely to keel over in the next twelve months. The trial I saved for last was the most difficult of all, the medical equivalent of cleaning out the Augean Stables, the preparation for said trial involving the ingestion of 325 pills and 1280 ounces of water over the course of several hours.

Unfortunately, poor planning on my part indicated that I would spend most of these several hours driving my son and a friend to and from choir practice. But that is a story for another day.

I will leave it to Dave Barry to fill in the specifics of the procedure itself. And I will confirm that the procedure is anticlimactic, to say the least.

What I did not realize before the dreaded test, but know now, is that anesthesia provided me with the best sleep I have ever had. Especially since my brain apparently never ever goes to sleep, and spends its down time at night having dreams that are like my real life on steroids.

I awoke from the colonoscopy in a state of giddy enthusiasm that was only partly attributable to the fact that I do not, in fact, have colon cancer. Much of my euphoria resulted from actually having been asleep for the first time in probably 14 years and ten months (since my son Spencer was born). I felt reborn, and practically skipped out through the waiting room, which was filled with tense people who looked at me as if I was doing the Dance of the Seven Veils.

In the burst of enthusiasm and energy that followed, I decided to start writing every day.

Obviously, sleep is one of the essential components of living the reasonable lifestyle. It simply cannot be dispensed with. And, since I do not have access to the anesthesia cocktail that provided my respite, and a weekly colonoscopy would be both unreasonable and unreimbursed, I have to do a better job of finding ways to summon the sandman.

Any suggestions out there for getting a good night's sleep?