REAMED, STEAMED, AND DRY-CLEANED

That’s how I feel after this morning’s, errr, ahhh, procedure.

It’s the kind of thing Old Guys like me should have done every five to ten years... and the kind of thing that probably would have inspired a frenzy of Crap-Blogging a decade ago, back when the world was new and we cared about such fecal matters. But I just don’t have it in me anymore.

Literally.

Crap-Blogging was once a thing, but for better or worse it is the sort of thing that does not seem to work on Facebook, where the audience is not a random bunch of internet geeks but rather a circle of friends, family, and acquaintances. It all seems like Too Much Information.

And even here on the bloggy side of things, you’re safe. I do not plan to post photographs, though I do have them... and they are fascinating in a perverse sort of way. (How often do you get to have a glimpse of your own living, glistening innards?)

To close, a brief Poetic Reflection on the day’s events:

The very idea, why it’s just nuts -
To have a tube shoved up your guts
Therewith for to inspect the Colon
And thus ensure there’s nothing growin’.
The preparation is no damn fun:
“Excuse me, but I’ve got to run!”
But give me a dose of Propofol,
And whatever you do, I won’t care at all.