Some Disappointing Realizations On The Eve Of My 45th Birthday After Scheduling That Colonoscopy
1. This shit’s expensive.
Sure, preventive care is covered by most insurances, but who can afford insurance? Regardless, I will be taking it up the ass next week in more ways than one.
2. “45 is the new 50!”
In one brief phone call with my doctor to ask dutifully about hormone-free Veozah, I aged 5 years and a day, and the same woman who believes me every year when I say I already got my flu shot looked me square in the phone-eyes and laughed when she broke the news. My colon, vengeful windbag that she is, will hold her displeasure until next month’s well-woman exam, just wait.
3. I’ll never be an Olympic archer like my friend, Maggie.
This is unrelated for multiple reasons, but it’s still disappointing because I had dreams, and now I can’t see them without my readers.
4. Deep-fried cheese curds slathered with Tutto Calabria crushed hot chili peppers are out, and mainlining prune juice is in.
My gut microbiome can’t risk the cesspool of IBS-C if all five feet of my large intestine are going to be camera-ready in a week.
5. Aww, my small intestine.
Poor little guy probably feels left out.
6. I want to be cremated.
Not right this second, preferably, but it’s like suddenly I have end-of-life clarity and can’t trust my future grandchildren to follow through with my wishes, so I need to get it in writing for legal. In the meantime,
7. Pickleball
I’m just one hip replacement away from a bridge club, and I want to make the most of whatever nimble time I have left playing miniature tennis.
8. Wait, does this mean that 50 is the new 60?
I don’t hate the idea of early retirement, but tomorrow? There’s a cold front coming, and I can already feel it. Tomorrow just isn’t a good day for cashing in my 401(k).
8a. Do I have a 401(k) now?
Note: Find out about retirement packages and how to live off the land, just in case. Also note: Don’t get rid of that stash of ketchup packets and restaurant butters in the egg holder just yet.
9. I should call my mother.
We haven’t spoken since Hillary’s emails, but maybe she wants updated photos for the mantel since I’ve got a portrait sesh coming up. After all, I am the asshole.
10. So long, audible laughter every time someone inadvertently says, “do do.”
Modern medicine is making a respectable woman out of me, so I don’t do juvenile crap like that.
11. What I do do —
starting tomorrow.
