Colon Blow

A colonoscopy is a ritual for those of us over fifty. Had mine this morning. I’m struck by how the preparation the day before is more odious than the actual procedure. Drinking what feels like a gallon of Moviprep solution is no joy – the stuff tastes awful, especially at 4:00 a.m., which is when I started drinking my second dose. Once I was on the gurney with some Demerol on board, not a care. Nurses Diana, Sabrina and Sally were brisk and professional, efficient but not impersonal; my heart rate never rose above 55 and my blood pressure stayed low. My doctor was the same man who did my first colonoscopy three and a half years ago, and when I jokingly asked if his skills had slipped in that time he said, “The day I feel that I’m not getting better is the day I call it a career.” He actually whistled while he manipulated the scope.

Hot damn! It’s groovy when things work as they should, unfold according to plan, and the actors follow the script. Into the Ambulatory Surgical Center at 7:30 in the morning, out at 9:15 or so, no complications, apparent tumors or other abnormalities, a mellow high from the Demerol, and my wife waiting for me in the recovery room.

Thinking of my rectum in particular and assholes in general leads to thoughts of the so-called Fiscal Cliff, the looming disaster that will strike unless congressional Republicans and President Obama reach an accord on taxes and spending cuts. The battle lines are familiar: John Boehner and his band of acolytes demand that tax cuts for the wealthy remain in place, forever and ever, while “entitlement” programs must be slashed for the sake of future generations; President Obama wants to let tax cuts for the wealthy expire and take a less blunt object to what remain of American social programs. Both parties are under the thrall of deficit hawks. Every morning on Good Morning America, after lively banter about William & Kate’s pregnancy, a breathless report from outside the hospital where Kate is being treated for acute nausea, and the same stock footage of William stepping out of a Land Rover and ducking into the building, comes an update on the Fiscal Cliff.

We are told the parties are miles apart and making no progress whatsoever, while the clock continues to tick, louder and louder, until --what? Automatic tax increases and horrific cuts to federal spending that will affect seniors, toddlers, defense contractors, airline passengers, students, horses, dogs, cats, etc. It’s an epic showdown, Boehner against Obama, vanquished against victor – and it’s all gloom and doom playing out against the backdrop of the happiest season of the year. The agony, the horror, the cliff! What happens if the country tumbles over?

Not much, most likely. The Cliff is really a Curb, and the “crisis” is wholly manufactured to appear more than it is, to make drama where there should be none at all. Social Security does not cause deficits any more than tax cuts for the wealthy create jobs for the middle class and the poor; raising taxes will not squelch our economic recovery, such as it is; these arguments are tired, and false.

I suspect that average folks, like myself, are more concerned about the security of our jobs, the high cost of college for our kids, and $500 medical co-pays like the one I paid this morning.