My First Endoscopy
A week or so ago I went in for a physical. Several months ago I lost a lot of weight, and ever since I can eat two horses a day and still not gain any weight. I love that part, but was worried about the cause.
In the physical, I took barium sulfate and they used a medical imaging technology that I’m not really familiar with to check my vital organs. (Not a CT scan; PET scan, perhaps.)
At the time of the exam, I could tell the technician was concerned. She kept taking pictures of a certain organ, over and over, from several different angles. The organ turned out to be my stomach. The doctor asked me to make an appointment for an endoscopy, citing the possibilities of an gastric ulcer or gastric cancer.
Cancer. There’s a word that’ll scare the snot outta you.
I’m somewhat of a boy scout in the sense that I like to be prepared. So I wrote out the possibilities:
Ulcer - deal with it.
Cancer, operable - operate.
Cancer, metastasized - die.
The last option was the one that was hardest to get a grip on. Even though, in this day and age, death from cancer is not a done deal, it does occur. While realizing the improbability of it, I was determined to be prepared for all options, including the fatal one.
The thing I realized is, death doesn’t really have to be scary. I’ve faced situations in the past when I thought I could be done for, and it really isn’t that scary once you accept it. I think it’s scarier for the people around you. My father, when he was dying, didn’t seem to mind at all. When I asked him point-blank how he felt about dying, he said that he was okay with it. He said he was happy to have lived the life that he lived, and had no regrets.
Indeed, if you think about it, there’s something liberating about death. Kind of like a vacation, where you don’t have to worry about answering the phone.
Anyhow, long story short, the endoscopy revealed that I have a health stomach, and esophagus, and they gave me a clean bill of health. Yippee.
One thing it does drive home is, we’re all going to die sooner or later. That did affect my spending habits for the few days it was in my mind. After all, if you’re going to die soon, are you going to spend your money on material goods, or experiences? Experiences seem to be a better choice.
February 6th, 2008 at 3:07 pm
Good news John!
Also, I’ve been down that road a few times myself and the idea of being injected with a nuclear isotope always made me a lil weary. So what, did you have a increase in metabolism at the ripe old age of…?
February 7th, 2008 at 3:51 am
I can’t figure the weight loss out, could just be a lifestyle thing. I can’t complain, though. Love not having to worry about what I eat.
February 12th, 2008 at 12:24 am
I don’t view the prospect of death with any great relish really. It’s not the
feeling of being dead that worries me. That must be somewhat similar to the
previous 14.6 billion years since the Big Bang, for most of which, at least until
my present incarnation I’ve felt nothing. No, the worrying bit is in the
anticipation of the actual experience of dying. Will it be nasty, unpleasant,
unwelcome or otherwise inconvenient and disruptive of my life- the life that is
to the best of my awareness, the only one I’ve ever known.
The ideal demise would be to peg out at the age of ninety eight and a half
whilst doing something you enjoy, which in my case might be scoffing a cheese
and onion sandwich, riding my bike or listening to Van Morrison singing “Days
Like These”, whilst also eating a cheese and onion sandwich and riding my
bike. I’m actually being a bit fanciful here cos I don’t usually do these three
things together. But neither of my parents bought the farm in quite such a
satisfactory way, so I don’t suppose I will.
My hope is that if I ever wind up in a hospital bed, unable to get up and visit
the toilet and being viewed with contemptuous disgust by a succession of
supercilious nurses, there will be a pre arranged relative present armed with a
two pound hammer to humanely do the deed and send me on the journey to
the next great adventure of life. Namely, becoming wormfood and passing into
an eternity of non existence.