Anal Selection

People are like machines: we require fuel, we produce some sort of waste, we move around and do stuff; occasionally, we break and need maintenance.

I have a family history of cancer. Typically for the males of my lineage, colon cancer appears around age 30, and certain death occurs around 55. I don't know why, but there it is. It's odd, really, until about ten years ago, my own dad didn't know who his real father was. He found out about five years too late, his real dad died without really getting to hug his son as his son.

Anyway, the good thing that came out from learning the truth of his real blood line was the warning that came from all the women (who were still alive): get yer butt checked for cancer. Do it now.

So I did. I discussed the process with my doctor, he said I was too young. I insisted. He referred me to the local brilliant butt doctor who went in for the scope. Turns out, three polyps were removed, and all three were precancerous. Another few years, and I would have probably been doomed to repeat my genetic disposition.

The reason I'm sharing all this is that this morning, I got a call from that specialist's office. They informed me that my three year follow-up was due in January, but the brilliant butt doctor I saw before had retired. So I have to pick a new one. They rattled off like thirty names, all probably equally skilled doctors that can probe butts just the same as any other proctologist, but I don't know about picking one over the phone.

It's hell getting old.