Good For The Sole
Two in the afternoon, waiting at home before I drive over to the doctor's office to have a Sigmoidoscopy. This is a new one for me. Basically, as I understand it, they enter through the bottom and check out the exit chamber, so to speak. Not a colonoscopy - I've had those before, a nice I.V. drip of soothing medicines - but a lighter weight wide awake process which I'm sure we can agree not to mention again.
I've been making appointments with doctors to check me out lest there's something more than age in these "off" feelings I've been experiencing. Aches, pains, hallucinations. More aches, more pains, fewer hallucinations. What might they become in another ten years? Five years? A month? And my feet hurt. Maybe it's a predictable prostate side effect, concern for the one generating low level hysteria over potential others, every ache now more than a pulled muscle, every bruise a symptom of plague. You understand. I'm not sure I understand.
So I've just done a Fleet enema to be followed by another Fleet enema and then I will drive over for the exam and then I will come back here and eat. Had to skip lunch. Not happy about skipping lunch. Hungry. Happy about getting out of the office for an afternoon, though, before the long weekend, a brief respite before the coming brief respite.
Later. So I'm an hypochondriac. Everything's fine, although the after effects seem very like the symptoms leading me to take the test in the first place, as if the large intestine were filled with air under pressure, the kind of feeling that gives you a nice muscle relaxing release when the pressure drops. (How to write this without making it a fart joke? I hate fart jokes. I don't even like old fart jokes, and I've spent the last four years writing one! Mumble.)
So, I dunno. I've missed my Wednesday after work drinks down the street with my fellow malcontents. Wilson used to say he was having drinks with his anarchist friends. Malcontents aren't quite anarchists, more like proto-anarchists, polite company anarchists, as in, they work at the company with me. I thought of driving back downtown, but settled for a hot dog at a 7 -11. I know, hot dogs, an anti-California cuisine, but god meant for Americans, I don't know about the rest of the world, but Americans to eat a hot dog now and again, even a bad hot dog (hell, most particularly a bad hot dog). It's necessary, not just good for the sole, er, soul. I can use something good for the Sole.
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