Colonostomies "R" Us

It was a two polyp day.
Had the colonostomy, they snipped out two polyps and I am home with a spring to my step.
So bizarre. The joint is like an assembly line for colonostomies. I kept looking around for Henry Ford.
I stroll into the office and there are four or five couples waiting. How many of us knew when we took the vow that love would eventually be defined by partnering up in the colonostomy experience.
The waiting room was silent. No TV on, no piped in music. Quiet whispers. Not the atmosphere I desire before having my anal canal invaded.
The Fugs had a song called Wide, Wide River that begins: "River of shit, river of shit, flow on, flow on, river of shit, right from my toes, on up to my nose, flow on, flow on, river of shit."
At the very least, this place should play that song on an endless loop.
People kept coming in and registering, while others were called to the inner sanctum for fun and merriment.
I couldn't believe the traffic. They must perform 50 goddamn colonostomies a day. Felt like I was at Jiffy Lube. Oughtta be a discount.
Medical professionals talk to patients like they were children. I hate this. You know how it goes; way too cheery, every sentence ending on a high note, bubbly and annoying.
Talk to me like an adult. I can handle it. Even though I don't act like one.
The competent professionals also disturb me. When they get me in the prep room, the woman fires off 23,000 questions in a brisk, business-like manner. And gives me ten sentences of what to expect in a three second span.
Obviously she has done this 437,896 times. So I can chalk her brusqueness up to efficiency. Or I can worry that she is so bored she will check yes instead of no or "not allergic to" instead of "allergic to."
I don't like "procedures" because of the helpless feeling. Lying there in that ridiculous hospital gown with an IV jabbed into my hand, waiting to be wheeled into the main event. Looking out the window, listening to the people walking and talking by in the hall.
Got the picture in my head of my mom in the hospital, where she spent many, many days of her life. My dad at the end too. IV's, machines, an antiseptic atmosphere that does not inspire visions of happiness.
Really hit me when they wheeled me down the hall. I felt like a patient. I could imagine myself as a heart attack victim or cancer warrior and I did not like the feeling.
The past month has been an exceptionally healthy one for me. Mentally, physically, surprisingly. Gonna try to keep that up.
I do not want to be wheeled down a hospital corridor again until I am dead and they are preparing to remove my brain in an effort to understand just what the hell was going on in there all these years.
Anyway, it is done. A five year reprieve. Had a physical two weeks ago, all went well. Blood tests last week. No bad news.
I am always stunned to get positive news from the medical community. It's like driving a car 234,000 miles without ever changing the oil and your mechanic telling you "This baby runs like a top."
I was comparing colonoscopy notes with my brother yesterday and I said I didn't remember the day before the procedure being bad. Last one was eight years ago and my mind is fading.
Anyway, I was wrong. Trust me, I didn't see much of the Red Sox game last night and what I did see was spent in anticipation of jogging to the bathroom.
So another hurdle cleared. There must be some sort of destiny awaiting me.
I shall go now and seek it.