If you are of a certain age, you may have already experienced the dreaded colonoscopy. Since I have a family history of colon cancer, I had my first one when I was 35 and have continued to have them regularly since then. As many people will tell you, the prep is usually worse than the actual colonoscopy. I mean, who wouldn’t want some alone time under a warm blanket, get in a fifteen minute power nap, and wake up to some Lorna Doones waiting for you? 

So a couple of weeks ago Ted was due for the second colonoscopy of his life. The first one was five years ago. Back then, after the nurse had taken him back for the procedure, I had run out to get myself a coffee. When I returned, the entire waiting room was looking at me as I walked in.

“Are you Samantha?” someone asked. “They have been calling for you!”

Apparently, Ted had had the quickest colonoscopy known to man, and the nurses had been looking for me for several minutes while I was gallivanting around town. I sheepishly walked back hiding my iced mocha behind my back so I could tend to the patient. 

Side note: Lots of my stories include me showing up somewhere late because I was getting a Starbucks. I almost missed the beginning of my son’s high school graduation because I was getting a drink, and by the time I arrived there weren’t any parking spots left. I had to do the walk of shame up the bleachers, squeezing myself into my seat as “Pomp and Circumstance” played. 

As I said earlier, the colonoscopy preparation is usually worse than the actual procedure. First, you have to fast for a whole day. Now, that might not seem hard, but let me tell you…it IS!! Going a whole day without food is not easy. By about mid-day I am usually wondering how those people who have been stranded in the wilderness or lost on a raft at sea made it for days on end without anything to eat. I become very sympathetic to those rugby players who resorted to eating their friends after their plane crashed.  Then, after not eating for twelve hours, you have to drink the most disgusting liquid ever created in the history of man. Over the years, advancements in medicine have helped to create more palatable potions to help you expel everything in your body, but apparently my doctor is old-school. He still likes the old standard: a slightly gelatinous, never-fully-cold-enough, faintly salty fluid. Just thinking of it makes me gag. And of course, there is a time constraint where you have to drink around 54 gallons of this stuff in an hour. 

And then comes the real injustice of the day. 

Just when you are saying to yourself, “I don’t think this stuff is working,” you suddenly need to make a beeline to the bathroom, shoving all people, dogs and furniture out of the way so you can get in there in time. And there you will stay off and on (literally) for the next 8 hours or so. 

As Ted prepared for his procedure, Franny and I were business as usual that day. Now, a nicer wife would have been supportive and maybe had a bland dinner or eaten in secret so as not to make things worse for their spouse. However, that is not me. And this is because of an incident that happened during my very first colonoscopy many years ago.

Ted was invited out to dinner with some work colleagues. I may have been invited, (I honestly don’t remember), but I do remember telling him to just go, that I would rather have some privacy than have him stay with me and miss out on the dinner. When he got home that night, he had a huge piece of delicious chocolate cake with him. One of his coworkers had ordered it for me and sent it home with Ted, telling him that he hoped it all went well for me in the morning. I put it in the fridge, looking forward to eating it the next day.

The next day after I got home, I took a nap and rested a bit. I came downstairs to dig into that chocolate cake…and saw it wasn’t there.  

“Ted,” I asked, “where is my cake?” It had been less than 24 hours. What could have happened to it? 

“I ate it,” he said. “I’m sorry.” 

Readers, I don’t need to go into what happened next, but it was on par with when he mentioned he was “tired and hungry” mid-way through my 16-hour labor with Teddy. 

This is a legendary story in our house. And this is why Franny and I didn’t feel bad getting Panera for dinner.

The next day we drove to the clinic where Ted was having his colonoscopy and parked. Right before we got out of the car, he shut off the engine and turned to me. (It is important to mention here that Ted is a bit of a hypochondriac and highly suggestive. If we have chicken for dinner and several hours later I mention that I think maybe that chicken was actually a few days older than I thought, he will immediately get a stomachache. If I have a cough one day he will wake up with a worse cough the next day. If he goes to the doctor for standard check-up and the doctor orders routine blood work, Ted will tell you the “doctor is very concerned and is ordering blood work.”) So I braced myself for what was coming as he looked at me very seriously.

“Now, I don’t want to be on any life support or hoses. I have a one million dollar life insurance policy. Make sure you talk to our lawyer if anything happens.” 

“YOU’RE HAVING A ROUTINE COLONOSCOPY!” I shouted. “The worst thing that’s going to happen is someone is going to eat your chocolate cake! I’ve had four colonoscopies and we have not once talked about my final wishes!”

He was not receptive to this response.

Thankfully, all went well. I stayed in the crowded waiting room so as not to get yelled at again. Ted got the all clear. And I didn’t have to execute his DNR.

I just wish I had known about that life insurance policy beforehand…