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Happy Birthday to me

I celebrated a <choke> milestone birthday this year.  I’m not one to count the years because you are as young (or old) as you mentally tell yourself you are and I’m NOT as old as the number on my birth certificate.  But anyway, whether I choose to count the actual number or not, apparently my doctor does.  I went in to see my GP to clarify a cholesterol reading (I may as well be a spokesperson for someone my age…) and to ask about ongoing shoulder pain (ok maybe I need to stretch more before boxing) but instead I left there with the Happy Birthday Colonoscopy order.  WTH.   Wouldn’t a small edible arrangement or even a coupon for the salad bar at Hoss’ have been nicer?  Yeah yeah I have heard “it’s not that bad” and “the prep is the worst part” but for someone who really only sees a doctor once a year, this is a huge inconvenience.   Part of me figures I should skip it until my mental age catches up to my physical age in about 25 years, but anxiety-ridden neurotic part of me hears cancer, Cancer, CANCER.  So here I am…waiting to have my consultation hoping they will laugh and tell me I’m too young at heart to need a colonoscopy.  A girl can hope…


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