Saturday, July 28, 2012

It's time for that test again.

Yes it has been 10 years since I had that test done. Ten happy carefree years. My doctor reminded me of this just last week and told me that it that time again. She gave me the doctors address and phone number and told me to call him and set it up.

Now surely she MUST know that I am not going to do that. Why would I? I imagine myself making the call to their office, "Hello this is Drs Mengele, Himmler and Eichman's office, can we help you?" Me, "Hello is that Dr Eichman? I'd like you to stick a tube the size of a large drainpipe up my rear end and then charge me a lot of money for doing it. Is that OK with you?"

Why don't they do it the smart way? "Dr Eichman will call you to set up an appointment." That would be a much better way. You know you should have it done and if he calls you, well you might as well set it up.

I can remember the last time. First they give you a five gallon jug of Atomic Laxative that tastes as though it was something dredged up out of my neighbors septic tank and tell you to drink it all down within 3 hours. They also tell you to stay close to home! Well after a short while "home" was my downstairs toilet. I had cleared any obstacles that were in the way of a fast trip to said toilet. I had set up a small TV in there along with disposable newspapers and magazines and a large economy sized roll of super absorbent Bounty. I covered the floor with a thick layer of old newspapers. Later I even taped papers to the walls to a height of about two feet. Even later I made that four feet.

Day dragged into night. Daytime arrived and I went to meet my tormentor. The deed was done.

Clean up time. Over the next week or so I cleaned up the bathroom. Over the following weeks I found more areas that needed cleaning, such as behind the toilet, the walls above four feet high, inside of closets. Finally somewhere around 6 months to a year later I glanced up at the ceiling! Surely not? How could that possibly be?

I am wondering if the next time I should rent a hotel room for the ordeal. It would need to be a hotel chain that I don't normally use. And I would need to use a false name.

What to do, what to do? The thought occupies my every waking moment. I can't work, I can't sleep. I try to think how the Doctor lives with it but it does not help.

Eventually it must be done. But not yet.

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