I have just spent an hour watching a computer "program" explaining my upcoming colonoscopy procedure. How thrilling.

It just made me more nervous and anxious (as in anxiety).
It's 27 hours away as I write this.

Why should I be apprehensive and worried--at least concerned? Well, for those who don't know....

Eight years ago (at age 60), I had my first (and only) colonoscopy. No fears, no worries--until I got a phone call the next morning from the performing doctor.

He had run into an "obstruction" (which I remember feeling the jabs as he tried to get the probe to move along). So, I was advised to have further tests, namely an x-ray the following day. More "clean-out" required. Wonderful.

The x-ray indicated "something" not good. Two doctors said it was cancer. The x-rays were shown to me, diagnosis explained. I would need a section of the colon removed, ASAP. I was in a semi state of shock. CANCER, the dreaded word. ME! The guy that ran, ate right, was healthy.

So, I told my family--dad, sisters, children--that I had colon cancer, and that surgery was to be performed in two days. Wish me luck. I may be dying. If I don't see you again, adios. Have a good life. Remember me fondly. I accepted the diagnosis and possible fate with a shrug: A roll of the dice. S**t happens, and all that jazz. (No "why me, God?", however.)

When I drowsily woke up following the surgery (where she had cut me from stem to stern, opening my whole mid-section up), there my father was, standing over me, saying something about me being okay. Huh? Then the lady surgeon came in and told me the "good news". Not cancer. Twisted colon (colitis?). No big deal, you'll be fine.

Well, thanks for nothing, doc. No apologies, no explanations, just "take it easy". I had to spend several days in the hospital to recoup. Then I "lost" a couple more months healing. No golf or exercise or gardening. Much of May, June and July were shot. No, I was not a happy camper. But I didn't have colon cancer! Rejoice? Hmmmm.

So why am I nervous about a routine colonoscopy tomorrow? Gee, I wonder. Deep breath, Randy, deep breath.