What's YOUR career path?

Choosing a career path is one of the most monumental decisions you will ever make in your life. There are some of us who know where we are headed right from childhood. We role play as kids and end up exactly where we planned, i.e. teachers, entertainers, etc. There are others who follow the lineage of the family, i.e. miners, lawyers, retail merchants. And then there are those who make you say, "Really? What were they thinking?"

Last night at Thanksgiving dinner, as always amongst 50+ somethings, the conversation goes back to bowel movements. Don't ask why. It's still a phenomenon to me. But I assume as we get older...our bowels just aren't as regular as they once were as kids, so we look forward to discussing it with our peers. Why you ask? I'm not sure but that brings me back to the original thought process I started with. Why would anyone CHOOSE to be a proctologist? I mean, what satisfaction could you possibly gain from looking up someone's asshole? I've thought about this quite a bit. Again, don't ask why. It has nothing to do with age because I've questioned this choice since I was in my 20's when I first had the unwilling pleasure of visiting one.

Have you ever gone to a proctologist? You know how doctors hang pictures in their offices of your digestive system, your bones, your heart, lungs, brain. Guess what proctologists have pictures of? That's right...that long and winding road through the colon to the rectum ending in the anus factimus (not a real word...I just liked the sound of it). Knowing that the rectum is the storage facility for feces, a mini silo if you will...please tell me what goes thru a human's mind to have this passion for exploring that map to the little hole within the tushy! What is the fascination you could possibly experience every day by checking out the rectal walls of another human? Could it be satisfying for them to see the humiliation we all, as patients, experience from putting our butts right up into their face. And I mean...RIGHT IN THEIR FACE. Take it from me...I've had that pleasure, and you can't imagine the bonding that you share with your physician. You also can't imagine what goes thru your head as you're prepping for the office visit.

Omitting my embarrassing reasons for my visit, I would like to share the thought process that I have to think all proctology patients have in common prior to entering that hell hole known as the proctologist's office.

·                     The shower. Let us scrub the area as thoroughly as we can and make sure we do not have to use the restroom immediately prior to the visit, so that there are no little pieces of Charmin hanging on for dear life in the general area.

·                     The timing of our pooping. Let us eat at an hour where the digestive system has time to move that food quickly thru our bodies and enter the porcelain potty prior to our visit.

·                     The type of foods we eat. Do NOT eat broccoli, cauliflower, beans or any Mexican food prior to our visit. The exploding gas compounds that may emanate from our anal canal would be sure to knock the doctor clear across the room since s(he) will be in such close proximity to our anal erectus (again...not a real word).

·                     The doctor's examining table position. Are we on all fours with our asses in the air so the doctor can be at a standing position with his face directly at eye level with the hole? Are we on our sides, in the fetal position, which brings us back to childhood and our vulnerability? Do we stand up, touch our toes and he leans into the butt?

·                     The accomplice. Who will his/her assistant be? Please don't let it be anyone we could possibly know.

·                     The waiting room. Again...please don't let ANY of the patients be someone I have ever encountered anywhere in the history of my existence.

Which brings me to my visit when I was in my 20's and not in that same frame of mind I am now, which is the "I don't give a shit" mode (no pun intended). Back then, embarrassment came much more readily. So this was not something I was easily embarking on.  I made it thru the waiting room experience. Whew...no one I recognized. Thank you very much. On to the examining room. Off came my clothes from the waist down with the sheet draping over the bottom part of my body, my feet dangling with my socks still on. Such a great look but ok..not so bad yet. The MALE doctor enters the room, introduces himself and asks why I am there. I explain my reasons and he tells me to lie down and lean over on my right side and draw my legs up to my chest. I am so thankful that I don't have to look him in the face during this procedure. I also tried to ignore the 20 inch needle he had put on his instrument table before telling me what position to assume. So there I am, facing the wall, butt exposed, beet red in the face, and I hear him open the door and tell his assistant, "Gloria, Please tell the 5 students it's ok to come in now to observe."

The rest is just a blur.

shit or get off the pot

There are certain requirements once we reach that 50+ demo that, as kids, we swore we would never indulge in. I found that out as a young girl when I would overhear my mom and my nana talking on the phone. It was mandatory that you discuss your bowel movements. I'm not sure why that was a necessity, but it seemed to really be an important matter to them both. There was never a conversation without discussing their daily bowel habits. I figured that once I became 50 or older...I would have to discuss my potty dealings with all my adult counterparts. It was just part of the evolution of aging.

There are also certain tests that are required once you cross over that 50 age limit. Two of my favorites...the mammogram and the colonoscopy. I can't tell you how much I have looked forward to these all my life. Who would have ever thought I would actually reach that age where I had to partake in these wonderful assessments of my breasts and my asshole (ok, my colon...but still...my asshole IS involved!). But here I am to tell you exactly how I feel about these two exams.

Mammo's...as we women so endearingly refer to them. Please tell me why the "thing" has to squish your breast til it wants to explode. And why can't they make that plate warm? Is there something written in the American Journal of Medicine that says make it as cold as you can so as to freeze the frickin' breast til it cracks? Maybe we can see ice cubes shoot out of her nipples? I also believe the technician runs her hands under cold water before she handles your ta-ta's. Then she discusses it with the other technicians about how we flinched and almost smacked her in the face until she pressed our tits so hard we couldn't catch our breath. And let's not take just a couple of pictures...let's take 4-8 pictures...so we can squish it so many times to see her tolerance. And if you have breast implants...we wanna see if we can pop those suckers! Then let's make her wait to see if they came out ok...but let's tell her..."oh...sorry...this one isn't clear. We need to do your left breast all over again". Uh huh...yeah...THAT's gonna happen.''  Just let me leave and you won't lose your life.

Colonoscopies...have you ever had a colonoscopy? Because if you haven't...you will never understand the "scope" of what I'm going to describe! The procedure itself...piece of cake. The preparation...you have got to be kidding me. I never knew so much shit could come out of one little body, that came out of mine. In my wildest dreams...my poor little butt has never seen the toilet that often in my 56 years, as it did in these 4 or 6 or 8 or whatever frickin' hours of prep it took for my wonderful colonoscopy. Let me say that word again...COLON-FUCKING-OSCOPY.

OK...I'm good.

Jello...if I never see another bite of jello in my entire life...it will be too soon. I hated it before my prep...and I hate it even more now. I ate an entire VAT of jello...the size of Jupiter, because that's pretty much all I could eat. And it couldn't be red...it had to be some other color that I can't stand. So I ate orange. If I never see the color orange again...it will be too soon. Are you getting the picture? Oh yeah...I was allowed BROTH. I could VOMIT. Broth? So I got this broth and put it in a cup and microwaved the shit out of it and held my nose as I sipped cup after cup of BROTH! What the fuck is broth anyway? Does it have a purpose other than being part of the diet of a colonoscopy patient? Not being a cook, I'm not familiar with broth...but after tasting it...I don't understand why it's even a product that someone may purchase. It's absolutely disgustingly vile.

So...jello and broth will never be a part of my existence until my next colonoscopy. Can't wait for THAT day!

The laxatives...oh my g-d..seriously!!!! I wish it was an out of body experience but it couldn't be any more IN body than it was. My poor little tushy! The laxatives and drink combined are supposed to "irrigate" my body. And the preparation is supposed to "prepare" you for what's going to happen. Well...let me tell you...there was no preparation for this shit but there definitely was irrigation! When it hit....it hit...and I bee lined for the toilet. I was like an offensive tackle. You get in my way...I'm gunning you down. The toilet was my best friend for the next 8 hours. Who ever knew that a body could hold this much shit without turning brown. I felt like I was shitting out every organ of my body. I'm surprised there are still body parts left within me. I kept looking in the toilet to see if I could identify which organ decided to streamline it's way out of my ass hole. The body is a strong vehicle. Because if every single thing doesn't come pouring out of you during this period...you have conquered the colonoscopy. I have permanent half moon imprints in both my cheeks. And I take pride...I HAVE conquered the colonoscopy!

And I don't need one for another for 10 years...how lucky am I!

But the great thing is...as much as I hated these exams...I am so thankful for them. And don't ever let anyone ever dissuade you from them. They suck...but they are life saving and you couldn't ask for anything more. And just think...you, too, could have a great experience to share! asshole to asshole!