Outie to Innie - A Transformation
09/07/2007
As a future senior citizen, a future not really that distant for me, I have to entertain certain realities. Firstly, let’s clear the air on this one: the term “senior citizen” drives me up a tree. Senior my ass! Some bozo coined the phrase so that the politically correct wouldn’t offend some old fart for being an old fart. If you are over the age of sixty-five face it, you are old and won’t get any younger. You are not a senior citizen; you are merely and simply an old man or an old woman. You are old, not senior. Whew! That makes me feel better.
As one moves into old age, one imminently becomes more likely to undergo some types of surgical procedures, some more invasive than others. This is an irrefutable fact of life. During the past ten days I have had the distinct pleasure to enjoy two surgeries – a colonoscopy and an umbilical hernia repair, and I wish to share my story with you. I am now sixty-three and tired of saving all the stories until I am really old in just two more years.
Most of us have noticed when older Americans (aka old people) get together they apparently love to discuss maladies that confront them. Medical conditions and illnesses are generally at the top of the topic list, and the question “How you feeling?” brings forth a succession of woes and health issues from the recipient of the query. Now as I approach the end of my “pre-elderly” decade, I am beginning to get into the swing of things.
A second point I wish to make is this: I am a huge proponent of the colonoscopy for anyone with a family history of colon issues or people who have had the honor of celebrating their fiftieth birthday. This should be a requirement of every employer and of every health insurance provider. It should be made available free of charge to every American. I have lost three friends to colon cancer. Enough said?
Now it is time to get on with this exciting episode. I noticed many years ago that a bump had appeared in my navel. I always thought it was a consequence of gall bladder surgery I had in 1989, or at the very least my jackass attempt at opening beer bottles using my belly button as an opener. Over time it grew and protruded and stuck out about the size of half a walnut, and sort of resembled a small behind, little cheeks and all. This past year it began to be a little sensitive and mushy, so I asked my family doc about it. He took one look and said it was time to see the surgeon. So, I did.
The initial appointment with the surgeon lasted about five minutes. The doctor looked at my navel and then my file. He noticed that it had been almost exactly three years since my last colonoscopy and, inasmuch as I have had a history of polyps, told me I needed to get it done before the hernia repair. I scheduled both procedures to be done within a ten day period. I am a masochistic idiot, I suppose? The colonoscopy is not a big deal – this one being my sixth or seventh. The preparation is far worse than the procedure itself, but having done this many times, it really isn’t all that hard. I now understand why the doctor insisted I have it done. It might have been necessary to do some bowel repair had the colonoscopy revealed the need; he could have done it and the hernia all at once saving me all of about $2. Fortunately, the colonoscopy found only a few small, non-cancerous polyps which he excised during the procedure. I am now good to go for another three years.
The hernia surgery was a piece of cake. Done as a day surgery, I was in and out of the hospital in four or five hours and quite peacefully asleep for most of the time. There is some discomfort and tenderness, but very little. I chose to take a pain pill last night merely as a precaution. I was not really in any pain, maybe one-half on a scale of one to ten. The three brewskis I had prior to bedtime probably numbed my abdomen a little. I feel okay today, and good enough to have gone to work, but heeding the advice of my doc and my boss, I will stay here at home and take it easy for a couple of days.
The Nancy took great pleasure this morning in removing the dressing that covered my incision. As we were leaving the hospital the nurse told us the bandage could be removed this morning. Nancy eyes lit up with glee. She woke up this morning and asked to remove the dressing even before the sun was up and sought out the corner of it and began to remove it without turning a lamp on. It was kind of like the movie where the doctor removes the bandages from someone who had undergone plastic surgery. The removal of mine revealed a beautiful “innie” where just yesterday an “outie” resided.
And that is all I have to say about that…