We'd better find a solution to the health care mess soon because I'm two and a half years behind on my colonoscopy. (For those of you who have now figured out my age and are in a state disbelief, I share your shock).
Having gotten my masters degree in public health, I tend to have medical tests when the medicals recommend having them. This despite the fact that my baseline mammogram caught on fire. If you haven't read about that, you can go here:
www.accidentalcomic.com/columns/firstmammo.pdf
When you turn fifty, many exciting things happen. First, the AARP tracks you down and starts filling your mailbox with reminders that no matter how many others you may fool into believing you are still in your late-forties, they know your real age. They can find anyone. Personally, I don't know why someone hasn't sent the AARP after Osama bin Laden -- he is in their target demographic.
Next, your doctor tells you that your colon has gotten saggy and will soon fall out. Okay, maybe that's your uterus, but he does insist that you need to have a camera stuck up your bum. I don't think I'm that photogenic from the outside, but I once had photos taken of my ovaries that weren't half bad, so perhaps if I gussied my colon up, I wouldn't have to hide the pictures under the sofa cushions.
That, of course, assumes I'll ever have those photos taken. You see, I have one of those health insurance plans that has a $5000 deductible and I never come close to meeting it thanks to healthy living and a strong dose of denial. The colonoscopy people (I envision them in white lab coats with powerful LED lights strapped to their heads at all times, including during dinner with the family)... the colonoscopy people say that the procedure costs about $1200, but if they find anything -- a polyp, a paper clip, your self esteem -- the price just goes up until they're satisfied that your colon is clean enough to eat off of. You may be healthy at that point, but you also may be so poor that you end up stealing tongue depressors and backless paper gowns in order to fashion a tent by the river that you will live out the rest of your days in.
I'm not much of a gambler and the few times I have taken a chance it hasn't paid off. I once got a skin rash from the stuff you scrape off Lotto scratch-its (perhaps that's why they're called scratch-its?) I don't bungee jump, sky dive, or eat sushi. So I'm not going to double down a the colonoscopy table until it's fully covered by my insurance. If Uncle Sam wants photos of my intestines, he's going to have to pay for them.