I am nervous about getting a colonoscopy Thursday morning. I met with my new gastroenterologist today and she is an aggressive screener, so she wants to check me all out up in there (she likes to start colonoscopies at age 40, and then every five years). The prep begins. She said research shows a connection between early/young breast cancer and a certain kind of polyp/colon cancer. So, naturally, I’m worried, though my still, small voice says (not small right now, actually): “YOU DON’T HAVE IT. YOU ARE FINE. GOOD YOU ARE GETTING CHECKED OUT BUT YOU ARE FINE. YOU DON’T HAVE IT, YOU DON’T HAVE IT, YOU DON’T HAVE IT.”
Still, I get freaked (having had breast cancer at 40 will do that to a person). And so, as I gaze upon the handout on hemorrhoids the doc also gave me, and see the word “anus” everywhere, I also make up this song set to the “Dreidel Song”:
Anus anus anus / I made you out of clay
Anus anus anus / I don’t like anal play
Anus anus anus / I checked you out today
Anus anus anus / I get you checked Thursday
That made me feel better.
I am scared. I hated being told I had cancer in January. That fucking sucked. I got through all the dealings and treatment fine, but it fucked with my head. That said, it was tiny tiny tiny. So yay. And I keep reminding myself of that. I’m in good hands. Hands that will have a scope up my ass. No problem.
When I went to see psychic medium Karen Noe in August, the first person who came through was my mother, to say: “You are not me. You do not have what I had, you are not me. No more of this.” It was the main thing I wanted to hear and the thing I was most nervous about, because my mother had her breast cancer taken care of and then had stage 3-C ovarian cancer a year and a half later (which killed her). Karen said, “Your mom's saying, ‘All is well now, no more of this.’ And she's telling me to write it down.” It really helped me, and I’m trying to focus on that now, too. And the still, small voice sounds like that as well. But I do have the bulldog mind of a critic and academic who wants to discount that kind of thing (and my brother-in-law swiftly tried to discount my reading over dinner after I had it back in August). But I have to choose love over fear (loving reading Gabrielle Bernstein’s The Universe Has Your Back: Transform Fear to Faith).
I talked to my sister this morning, texted with my other sisters, too, hugged and laughed with my husband, pet the cat and gazed upon his magnificence, and am focused on the positive for my poop chute and all adjoining areas and situations. From anus to teats to the top of the head to the bottom of my bottom to the bottom of my feets. Clean, clear, strong and beautiful. And so it is.
This also happened, during the simpler time that was yesterday:
And I hope, if you've had it checked too, your pooper peeping was clean as a whistle.
It's me, Jennifer Bernice (rhymes with "Furnace": it was my Granny's name) Sutkowski
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