July 18th, 2025Kyle’s Rant

I had a colonoscopy last week which turned into a double ender with an endoscopy suggested at the last minute.
To the chase, nothing is wrong, it was just a quick check, but when I met with the surgeon he had noticed something in a scan pertaining to my upper bowel, which again turned out to be nothing.
I have been waiting a long time for the check-up because I was told by a local doctor that it wasn’t necessary, the poo in the bag thing is sufficient. That was even when I explained I had one done in my mid-thirties and was meant to go back five years later and here I am at 57.
So, it was a doctor shop for me and I found a guy with the same view as me to get a referral for what is the gold standard in checking for bowel niggles.
A lot of folks know the pre-flight to a procedure like that, it requires plenty of dunny paper (thank God it wasn’t during the time of the Great Toilet Paper Wars in 2020), a quiet afternoon or for people like me, an early morning start.
At one stage I nearly moved the TV into the en suite, I was there that long, it felt like even my soul had departed. One particular incident involved hopping off the dunny only to make it to the door and then it was a quick reverse back.
Donna took the day off in sympathy as we made an hour and 40-minute movie stretch out for five hours due to my many intermission breaks.
Finally, I arrived at the hospital and dressed in my magic paper pants and robe I shuffled into the waiting room and made a friend out of a stranger after I asked him “how do I look?”
We then discussed our experiences of the pure hell we had both just faced, it was about that time my new brother in arms let me in on a little trick to use Vaseline. (Thanks, mate, where were you 24 hours ago?)
It is then I found myself toe-to-toe with the surgeon who wanted to do the endoscopy at the same time. I don’t know why I resisted at first, he’s the expert, but I didn’t put up too much of fight and drank the special liquid.
About five minutes later I was lying on the bed with my final words to the nurses to not forget to clean the camera and, unlike the old Covid swabs, start at the top and then work your way down. Surely that kept them laughing, the first time they have heard that joke.
Forward wind a few hours and I was talking to my quack and he informed me he had removed four polyps, which can be the pre-curser to bowel cancer, so I was right to chase the test. He also handed me some polaroids, proof that my bowel was not entirely clean. I told him I had done my best.
Finally I was home, feasting after the 40-hour fast. And feeling a few kilos lighter.
We are so lucky to live in a country that services its citizens so well in terms of health; imagine living in the no-medical safety net of America.
Big beautiful bill my arse rant over…

(Ed’s note: It’s like man-flu but man-colonoscopy. I didn’t really go out in sympathy it was just the furthest room from the toilet.)