Most would not write about singing and a colon exam in the same short post.
I, however, am a courageous blogger, and my mind happens to be on those two subjects.
After my move from one coast to the other, I needed to find a new doctor. After hours, and days, and weeks of searching for good doc/ easy accessibility/ insurance acceptance, I found one.
I like the doc. Except she insists it’s time for me to get a colonoscopy.
I agree with her.
Katie Couric famously explained the need and necessity for us all to be colonoscopied (not a verb yet in the dictionary, but it is in my household). Katie bravely got colonoscopied on T.V. just to remind us all how a simple procedure can save us from a devastating disease.
I tried one about 10 years ago. Despite Couric’s insistence, it’s not for sissies.
Which is why I applaud my guy’s dedication to have one every seven years or so.
I participate by driving him to the hospital (where his specialist performs them), waiting with a couple of good magazines and a hot cup of tea, and then driving him home (despite his insistence that he can drive the 40 minutes back, thank you very much).
But I drive him home anyway, and later in the day he has no memory of the ride.
He also has no memory of the last time we went through this marital procedure.
First, let me explain that my guy is tone deaf. He loves listening to music, but he never gets the words right, and he never, ever sings.
Until colonoscopy day.
He’s carted off for the 30-minute procedure. The nurse tells me she’ll let me know when he’s in the post-op room, and I can come see him then.
I don’t recognize the voice, but I enjoy hearing the nurses and the doctor laugh.
When you think of it, you don’t often hear those in the medical profession laugh.
Don’t Cry for Me Argentina…
And, I see the muscled, freckled arm of my guy waving to me as his stretcher is pushed to the post-op room, and he lets loose another verse.
Don’t cry for me Argentina
The truth is I never left you
All through my wild days
My mad existence
I kept my promise
Don’t keep your distance…
Don’t Cry for me Argentina!!!
Unfortunately, I don’t have a video of this small miracle (a. he knew the words, b. he sung them well, c. he never saw the play or movie and swears up and down I’m making this up).
Readers, I’m not making this up. And it’s almost time for his next colonoscopy. I’ve sworn on my little pinkie that I won’t bring my cell phone with me to the hospital.
I better practice up on my Madonna.