The Really Dark Side of Politics
Krayton Kerns
4/23/08
This could be uncomfortable so the squeamish should immediately turn to the sports page. For those of you still here, take a deep seat and hang on; I’ll tie this together at the end.
I am fifty. In America, you begin your fifth decade with a rite-of-passage look inward…the colonoscopy. One of the aviation blogs I visit advised all pilots over fifty to get one done; so I did. Remember, this report and advice is from a conservative cow doctor-politician’s perspective.
My enlightening event began with a simple phone call. The hospital fax’d me a playbook and then sent me to the pharmacy to pick up a one-gallon jug of Turbo-Lax. I nicknamed it my party ball and I drank it Monday evening. People told me the stuff was vile tasting so I never tasted it; I just chugged it. (It’s like my Mother-In-Law’s prune meatloaf…don’t taste it, just eat it.)
The party ball is amazingly effective…everything on your insides comes outside. I think I passed a whistle I swallowed when I was three. I weighed myself at the start and then again at the end, so the next time someone in the capitol tells me I am “full of crap”, I know exactly how much that is. That is a fringe benefit to the colonoscopy.
Looking back, I did make one mistake; I should have cut back on my marathon training. I ran about twelve miles on Sunday and Monday, so after drinking the party ball and without eating for two days I was starving when my trophy wife drove me to the hospital on Tuesday afternoon. Nurses use that to their advantage; they give you a gown, take your clothes and then try to hook you to an IV.
“I won’t need an IV catheter because I won’t be taking any drugs,” I explained. They looked at me like I was about to become a brain donor without the benefit of an Advil.
“Are you afraid of needles,” the nurse asked?
“No ma’am,” I replied. “I make my living with needles. You see, I am starving and when I walk out of here in thirty minutes I plan on eating my way back to Laurel so I don’t want any drugs screwing that up for me.” She knew I was serious so she sent for reinforcements.
They were tough, but I was persistent, and soon they wheeled me into the colonoscopy suite. (That makes it sound like it should have a Jacuzzi, open bar, and soft music. Such amenities were lacking.) The gastroenterologist arrived, introduced himself, and then said he would speak to me again after I awakened from sedation. “I’m not taking drugs,” I kindly explained…or as kindly as you would expect from a starving veterinarian with a bare backside.
“Okay,” he shot back. “I will be gentle. So, Dr. Kerns, what prompted you to come in today,” he inquired as he began the exploring procedure.
“Well, I’m in the legislature and this is an election year,” I explained. “I know political operatives from the opposition party will be crawling up my backside with a microscope so I thought it would be a good idea if I looked first.”
Everyone in the suite seemed to enjoy that response so I thought this would be a good time to float a few stump-speech quips. The doctor and both nurses sported gray hair so I figured they had matured enough to think conservatively. The liberal days of “I’d-like-to-teach-the-world-to-sing” should be long gone.
“Let’s talk coal,” I said. “Do you realize Montana is sitting on some of the largest coal reserves in the world? And do you know what we are doing? We are sitting on them…did you miss that in the first sentence?”
“Interesting,” the doctor mumbled. “This next part might be a little uncomfortable as we are going around the splenic flexure.”
“Okay, no more coal talk,” I grimaced to myself. And so went my examination.
A couple more twists and turns and it was over. Thirty minutes later I was at Sid’s Bar & Grill in Laurel eating my way through a couple of their lunch specials before heading to Twistee’s for desert. Food at last…thank God…food at last.
Here are my two take home messages:
- If you are over fifty, and haven’t had one, get a colonoscopy. Finding colo-rectal cancer early can save your life, save healthcare dollars and it is not painful even without drugs. (Certainly it’s less painful than passing a whistle.)
- Montana’s energy needs, education funding, and economic future depend on the development of our vast coal, oil and coal-bed methane resources. Politicians who claim reliable energy and electricity needs can be met by building wind generators are blowing air up your backside. (I said I would tie this together at the end.)
