Other than being Stupidman, I am probably a typical 50 year old male. By that I mean I have a strong preference to avoid personal medical issues.My philosophy is if I feel ok I am. If I have a headache I take something, if
headache persists I take more until headache goes away. If I get a sinus infection or strep throat I go to a clinic, pay cash, get some antibiotics, take them, get well.
Until two weeks ago I had perfect cholesterol (never tested), a fine prostate (never checked) and was quite content in relying on premise that ignorance is bliss.
On horizon, storm clouds were brewing, soon to impact my sunny disposition.
Women are much more accepting of poking, prodding and various tortures that are administered behind closed doors of medical institutions. It starts when they are teenagers and never ends. Men, on other hand, are low maintenance. Women are envious of male circumstance and patiently wait until we are either struck down by a freak occurrence like illness or we turn 50.
Fifty is one of those magical years like 18, 21, 30, 40, or 62 but only thing positive about turning 50 is alternative of never becoming 50. Health and life insurance go up, you become eligible to join AARP and medical community says you are no longer on warranty.
Mrs. Stupidman not only undergoes regular maintenance checkups but she is also a nurse and a respiratory therapist. She constantly harps over my occasional cigar smoking but increased pressure after I turned 50 by bringing up subject of a colonoscopy. What?!?! No way!!!
Three months into colonoscopy harangue a younger, male in-law (a fireman, no less) finally went to see a doctor about red liquid that kept appearing in toilet prior to flushing. Turned out he had cancer of colon and currently carries a portable toilet in his pocket.
Knowing that he and I share no genetic material I was prepared to dismiss this as a freak occurrence. Unfortunately, I am married to a pit bull who ultimately wrests a promise out of me that if I observe red fluid I will submit to physical abuse inflicted by appropriate specialist.
My promise was made in good faith but subject to interpretation. Everyone knows that ingesting a red food or drink item during previous week could manifest itself in toilet and should not be counted towards promise.
All was well until I was sharing liquid libation with my brother-in-law and we somehow started making drunken jokes about our perception of invasive nature of procedure. We agreed that occasional coloration was no big deal and that anything less than a pint was no cause for alarm. Unfortunately, our conversation was overhead and my life was permanently altered.
Divorce is expensive and I can't afford to do it a second time so I made an appointment to see doctor listed for me on Mrs Stupidman's medical insurance. The doctor thought he should meet me before he referred me to actual perpetrator. As I still had hope that initial appointment might not result in a referral I took a gift of a bag of home grown tomatoes.
The doctor thanked me for tomatoes, advised me that he had a colonoscopy recently and was clearly not sympathetic to my plight nor amused by my clever answers to his questions. "How's your cholesterol?" "Perfect." "Huh?" "It's never been checked." "Oh, Nurse Ratchett will draw blood after I'm done with you."
