In the genetic lottery, I got some wins and some losses. Nature blessed me with my maternal grandfather’s thick hair, engineering aptitude and love of music. But you have to take the good with the bad—because I also inherited Grandpa’s irritable bowel syndrome, a lifelong nuisance for us both. Along with that hereditary gift, I had the bonus of being nurtured by Dad, a man whose life mission was to correct all ailments through his own concocted home remedies. Since food was one of his prime areas of focus, and the digestive tract one of his specialties, you can see I had one crappy setup.
In our family, any display of an ailment was a signal for Dad to kick into “healing mode.” Whether it was sauerkraut juice or Limburger cheese, he would try forcing things down our throats that would make deceased people gag. So we learned early on that it was sometimes better to suffer in silence than to subject ourselves to his well-intended yet punishing regimens. Unfortunately for me, it’s easier to conceal a sore throat than hide a poop attack.
Anyway: Because of my ongoing bowel issues (no pun intended), my doctor recommended I get a colonoscopy even before I hit that magical age of 50. Shit!
Doing the colonoscopy prep was Challenge #1. Challenge #2 was making sure Dad did not know I was having the procedure at all. If he knew, he’d undoubtedly try to talk me out of it—or insist I eat something that wouldn’t be cleared out of my system in time.
Anyone who’s had a colonoscopy knows the prep is the worst part. Worse, the prep day for me followed a Sunday dinner at Dad’s. As I wrote in an email to my siblings, “Yes, I know I should be a man about it, but do you think his lentil soup, black beans (“A Spanish delicacy”) and salty ham is enough to satisfy the dietary cleansing for this damn upcoming colonoscopy? I think it has more effect than the prescribed drinks I’m taking.”
The colonoscopy itself was surprisingly easy. As I was coming out of the anesthesia, I wobbled into the doctor’s office and he assured me all had gone well. He did mention he had to remove three benign polyps, but he said that’s the point of a colonoscopy: to treat small problems before they become big concerns. I felt relieved.
Then the doctor called a few days later, after the polyp biopsies. He said I was “borderline” for celiac disease—a sensitivity to wheat and gluten products. Then he said I needed to be cultured for a possible “parasitic condition.” Huh? The doctor speculated that I possibly got it from traveling. Traveling? Fat chance! I rarely travel with this poop problem. But then again, with my luck, Dad probably picked it up from someone who just got back from the tropics and was handling the same crop of melons in the supermarket’s “markdown” bin. Then the offending germ conveniently got passed on to me via one of Dad’s meals. #$%^@!
(To be continued…..)
Thanks so much for the article.Much thanks again.
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Thank you for your comment, Alex. Feel free to send us a story of your personal adventures and we’ll attempt to get it on!