While I was contemplating the to-do list this Saturday and enjoying a very nice cup of tea the mail guy came to the door. This is not a usual occurrence as we live on a busy county road and the mail is usually dropped into the mailbox directly from the mail truck. Tea in hand, I opened the door and took the mail he handed me. He pointed out the certified letter amidst the paper crap that finds it way into my mailbox, which is what brought him to the door in the first place. It required my signature. I hate certified letters. They usually mean annoying things, like I forgot to pay a bill or some other annoyance that requires extra effort on my part.
As I juggled my mug, the ominous letter with the other mail, and tried to figure out how to take the pen he was not so patiently holding out, the voices and commotion finally made it to the dogs. The barking started and the very black dog with the deep menacing bark was trying to slip past me. Mail Guy went on hyper alert. Clearly he was envisioning every Mail Guy's nightmare in which he gets chased by the ferocious dog as pieces of his ass are nipped off by very sharp teeth. I could see every muscle in his body tense as he turned slightly as if to flee and inched a little further away. He lost a little color too as he stared at her nose as it stretched toward him. I nudged my knee against her side and trapped her in the doorway with me.
She’s friendly, I say.
Uh Huh, he responds but clearly does not have faith.
Thunder takes advantage when I stooped to put my mug on the porch and sneaks fully out the door and starts sniffing Mail Guy’s exposed kneecaps, which begin to shake. I swear I heard his sphincter muscles clench. He practically shoved the pen into my hand. Please sign, he squeaked.
One of the kids came and coaxed the dog away, which soothed Mail Guy’s very rattled nerves. I sign and he runs for his truck, all the while vowing never to step foot on our property again, I’m certain.
The return address on this certified letter is one of our doctors. Dammit, I was sure I paid that bill.
SuperHubby sees me snarling at the envelope and asks why we got a certified letter. Defensively I state that I SWEAR I paid this bill.
I grudgingly open this piece of mail as if it might suddenly turn into the opening of hell itself. Hey, you never know where a portal to another dimension might be hiding. A quick scan of the contents and I stare in disbelief.
The gastroenterologist has sent me a CERTIFIED SIGNATURE REQUIRED letter alerting me to the fact that I have been remiss in scheduling my colonoscopy and endoscopy. They have tried numerous times to contact me without success. I only remember one voicemail thank you very much. Which I deleted without listening to completely, once they identified themselves. It was very important that I schedule these tests within the foreseeable future.
Does someone want to look into my ass so much that it requires a certified letter to get my attention?
If not then this statement certainly does: “Since almost all colon cancers start to grow within a polyp, close surveillance (heh) is necessary. Early colon cancers are symptomatic and potentially curable.”
I get that screening is a good idea, I really do, and appreciate thorough record keeping. I went to see them early last year for reasons that include the words toilet and blood. I’ll leave the rest to your imaginations. I also accept with blatant disregard that I’m at the age when all the annual, bi-annual, semi-annual exams and testing should begin.
I did have the colonoscopy and endoscopy scheduled even though I was pretty certain that my symptoms were brought on by stress and WAY TOO MUCH caffeine and a diet that met the need for comfort rather than balanced and healthy. I also knew that I had goaded a stomach ulcer back to life, failing to remember that an ulcer hurt like hell and produced not so pleasant visuals when in full swing. The tests were cancelled as my schedule at the time was unpredictable at best and there were more pressing matters that needed my undivided attention. Having had an ulcer in my mid 20’s, due to too much alcohol and other behaviors best left in my mid 20’s, I knew that a proper diet and care would make it better. So I gnawed on antacids, ate gentle foods and tried so hard to eliminate the caffeine but there are some things a girl just cannot do without and retain her place in the civil world. Oh how I tried! I did cut back considerably. And the symptoms went away. See, I know how to take care of myself
There is some truth that canceling the colonoscopy and endoscopy did not distress me, just those words are intimidating. I mean really, first there is the copious quantity of vile fluids that must be ingested. All with the sole purpose of creating a super powered geyser from your ass that glues you to the toilet for a day, which results in feeling like your ass has been singed with a blowtorch. Talk about cleansing! Then there are the actual tests. Long tubes tucked into either end and imaging done for your viewing pleasure. Enough said.
Doctor’s have certain responsibilities and clearly have the need to engage in CYA activities, especially when their patients disregard their advice. The delivery of a certified letter reminding me that I need to get my bowels checked did make me feel somewhat guilty.
And I had paid that bill.
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