Tight and Young

So, being 51 and all, I was told by my doctor to have a colonoscopy.  Oh, boy!  After putting it off for months, I get around to shopping online for a low-cost endoscopy center because, after doing the math, I’ve come to the conclusion that I am best off with a catastrophic insurance policy (as in, really high deductible).  Of course, I have not yet reached my deductible, and must shell out the dough for my adventure in rectal exploration.  To my delight, I find a Korean doctor, who is a Harvard graduate affiliated with fancy hospitals around town, and he only charges $600 for the procedure!

At the initial consultation, I am comforted by his clean, modern office, four smiling staffers, and well-heeled crowd in the waiting room.  However, when I leave the office—minutes after one gloved finger minus lubricant up my bum—I’m feeling sore. A day later, I am very sore, so I call the office and tell the girl who answers the phone that I’m upset because I feel the doctor was too rough; that I have torn anal tissue, and that if I’m going to have a colonoscopy, I want to be assured he’s going to be more gentle.  I hear a long silence, followed by an embarrassed laugh; then, in her strong Korean accent, she says:

“I never hear this before.”  More silence.

“Well, what I’m trying to tell you,” I say, “is that whenever I sit down, it’s like…ouch.  So, why don’t you tell Dr. Choi what I said, and if he’d like to call me back, that would be great.”

Two days later, she (not he) calls me back, and this is what she says:

“I tell Dr. Choi what you say, and he say this is normal.  It because we used to older people, and, well…you too tight!”

“Really,” I say.

“Yea,” she says.  “You too young!  But, don’t worry, when we do you colonoscopy, we use anesthesia, so you no feel nothing.  So, just relax!”

Too tight, and too young!  I’m so busy laughing and fighting off ego gratification that I still consider keeping the appointment until two of my magical friends point out that my torn anal tissue is a sign from the universe that I need to CANCEL.  I tell my husband the story, to which he responds:

“Of all the indignities we have to suffer [as we age], you mean we can also look forward to loose butt holes?”

I think there may be more in store.  I’m off to have a bone density exam done by a low-cost Russian technician in my neighborhood.  When I called to make the appointment, she told me in mafia-like tones to “bring cash, only CASH!”