The living daylights
Although Alex has been complaining bitterly for the past two mornings about “having to get up in the middle of the night,” I am delighted by the recent spring forward. It’s light until almost 7 p.m., folks, and that just gives a girl’s spirits a boost.
Plus, I’m a morning person and a semi-closeted Calvinist and if we’re getting up at what used to be 5:30 a.m., well, I’m certain it will make us healthy, wealthy, and wise!
It is only fair to note here that in spite of my general loathing of Ben Franklin, who I consider to be one of history’s greatest hypocrites, I nonetheless never miss an opportunity to goad Alex with one of Franklin’s many moralistic, Puritanical dictums. Alex says (and he is right) that the problem with Franklin was that he felt free to opine about how others should live their lives, meanwhile putting his, ahem, dictum wherever he pleased.
Poor Richard, my *ss.
But back to the topic of more light. It fills me with a sense of well-being to be able to take Shelley on a walk in the daylight after an early dinner.
Afterwards, I am known to enjoy a heavy gnawing session.
And these feelings of well-being, however fleeting, are a very good thing indeed because while my sister, who couldn’t have deserved it more, was having a lovely time at the fiber retreat this weekend, I was knitting Minnie,
writing my dissertation, a fighting a losing battle with my guts.
By Sunday evening, having been bested by my own intestines, I decided to give up food for Lent.
You’d be amazed how much time it frees up when you basically stop eating. I’ve never been so productive in my life.
Feast yer eyes on them beads…
But all kidding aside, dear readers, I realize that this is hardly a sustainable solution to the problem of temperamental guts. And since I know some of you will express concern, I hasten to add that I am actually eating, just limited amounts of very plain things. And the less I eat, the better I feel.
In the meantime, however, I realized—thanks largely to my friend Emily, who begged me to “do the right thing”—that my resistance to being violated by Dr. F. and her little camera wasn’t futile, but it was stupid.
So I scheduled the colonoscopy, recalling that Dr. F. said it was, “no big deal.”
It’s gonna be a big deal. But there are deals and there are deals, if you know what I’m sayin’.
Gratuitous close-up of my green beads.
Here’s the thing: Dr. F., who I admire and trust implicitly, thinks that she won’t find anything alarming when she roots around in there with her little camera. She’s probably right, and her professional opinion certainly makes me feel better about all of this.
You know what they say in medicine: if you hear hoofbeats in the hall, don’t go lookin’ for zebras.
In my case, what we’re probably dealing with is horses, but you can’t know that it isn’t zebras unless you submit to the camera. Ain’t life grand?
What I haven’t yet said is that my friend Mara died of colon cancer at the age of thirty-three. It was completely untoward, so statistically improbable that it bordered on impossible, but nonetheless, there it was. Because no one, including her doctors, expected zebras, they didn’t diagnose her cancer until it had metastasized and it was too late to save her.
So am I scared? Is the Pope Catholic? Did Lee Harvey Oswald act alone? You bet your boots.
But I think I’m going to be all right. And I know if Mara were here, she’d give me a swift, good-natured kick for ever hesitating.
March 13th, 2007 at 10:37 pm
As you face the prospect of what someone in my family calls the “buttoscope,” know that I will be praying for you–for peace of mind and heart, for a clean bill of health, and for the temperament of the gut to be less like a hormonal teenager and more like a placid grandmother rocking on the porch whilst knitting.
March 13th, 2007 at 10:49 pm
And I meant to say I’m so sorry for the loss of your friend. Have your test in honor of her.
The appearance of a zebra in one’s life would cause every black and white striped object viewed afterward to be mistaken for a zebra–at least at first. At least in my case. Having lost a loved one to a brain tumor, every headache (especially in my kids) makes me wonder . . .
March 13th, 2007 at 11:18 pm
I’m sorry to hear about your friend. I’m sure it would make me worry, also. Get the test, and you’ll have one less thing to worry about.
I am also loving the extra hour of daylight. It makes me feel like I do more than just work when I get to leave my office in the sunshine.
March 13th, 2007 at 11:28 pm
I always go with the plan that eliminates the really big problems. That way, you can convince yourself that what’s left are much smaller problems and therefore, easier to deal with.
Our Gypsy’s certainly enjoying the temporary return of Spring…she’s outside, playing in the dark and is also enjoying the return of “walkies” with her people.
March 13th, 2007 at 11:38 pm
If I were a betting woman, no question my money would be on grad student “quality” of life being the explanation for the fractious digestive track. Have the colonoscopy to confirm that the required cure is an extended vacation on the Cape.
And then, actually go to the Cape; that’s the part I think you should do for Mara. (Or, she’d probably equally approve of coming to Washington, don’t you think? It’s been 70 degrees and sunny the last few days here… guestroom’s got Balerstein written all over it!)
March 14th, 2007 at 12:13 am
Sorry you’ve been feeling bad. Best of luck with the procedure, and we’ll see you afterward.
March 14th, 2007 at 2:13 am
The procedure is nothing – really – the prep the day before is the worst of it — just be sure you have something to read in the bathroom as you will be spending time in there. And they will give you happy juice (my name for it) that will make it so you don’t care about anything at all 😀
Like someone else said do it in honor of your friend – and if you need someone to give you a virtual butt kick — LL – my feet are all ready – if I could just figure out how to make them tilt for the kick part .
March 14th, 2007 at 9:49 am
As rho1640 said, the test is nothing. I got on the table and the next thing I knew, it was all over. But she’s right, the purging the day before is not fun and you will spend the day in the bathroom. After that, you think you can handle ANYTHING!!
Also, the suggestion about the vacation is right on! Even if it’s only for 3 or 4 days.
March 14th, 2007 at 1:50 pm
You’ll be fine! After its all over and done with, have the dr test you for celiac disease – it’s basically an allgery to gluten that messes up your small intestine. My kid has it, and can’t eat anything containing wheat, which includes some really weird stuff, like hot dogs & pam vegetable spray.
March 14th, 2007 at 2:29 pm
I have not had a buttoscope yet, but based on what friends have told me (including my boss, who is normally a very reserved transplanted New Englander), it’s a non-event. I think it’s an excellent idea to do it and get the worry out of the way. I’m sure Mara would cheer you on.
And hey, you know, there’s a Balerstein-ready guest room in Seattle too.
March 15th, 2007 at 9:53 am
Thanks for the support, everyone! And the offers of guest rooms…
March 18th, 2007 at 9:52 am
Well, hopefully it’s maybe done with by now, seeing as I’m still catching up. Or possibly not. Whichever, good luck! It’s a helluva lot better to know than worry and stew about Horrid Possibilities. Hang in there; I’m sending good vibes like crazy. ::hugs:: (LOL, lots of hugs going to be piling up in your mailbox with the catching up bit. Oh well; hugs are always good, right?)