The doctor might as well have added to his instructions “remain seated with seatbelt securely fastened due to turbulence.” Prepping for tomorrow’s routine colonoscopy is anything but routine.
Yesterday, I heard there’s a pill you can take. Too late, already invested in Gatorade, Miralax, Dulcolax, Charmin and Herb Ox chicken broth. Never before has kale or liver made me salivate.
So, here I sit, race or skip to my loo, doing my part before the doctor does his tomorrow morning. Part of me rests in the word “routine,” another part worries,”will everything be ok?” Then again, it’s a rare day fear doesn’t nibble some edges around a part of my life, disrupt trust in God, myself or others.
Sometimes I wonder how Jud kept fear from consuming him, so much so, while bouncing around in the back of an ambulance from MGH to hospice with his daughter, asked Heather,”Can you raise me up, so I can look out?” Last looks at the Charles River, Boston and a part of this world he loved. How crazy and fearless is that? More often than I’d like, my shoulders droop, spirits sag along with other parts and before I know it, I’m stuck in the middle of a muddle, with more questions than answers.
Cathy Tyndall Boyd, wrote in Forward Day by Day, ” God is more of an artist than a mathematician. Things rarely add up.” For sure.
While my innards rumble in chaos, my mind works at loftier thoughts, and admits a colonoscopy’s a wise but weird test. In between running back and forth, I challenge myself,”Think about once it’s over and you step on the scale without it muttering, “One at a time, please.”
“All’s well that ends well.”
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