Colonoscopy done. Like my older brother warned me, the worst part of the whole thing is the 24 hours before the procedure. I was knocked out for the actual event, and after just a couple hours I was up and feeling (relatively) normal.
I knew I picked the right doctor when, as they were prepping me, they asked me my birthday. When I told them it was April 13th, one of the nurses told me that was her birthday too, but not the same year. Then I said something about how I turned 13 on Friday the 13th and she started laughing. She was born in ‘88 had her 13th birthday was on a Friday too. Weird coincidence, and it might have been the anesthesia kicking in, but all of a sudden I felt a lot more relaxed.
And it was good news. Not a single polyp. Nothing. Nada. Told me not to come back for ten years, 2021.
Whew! Now I can watch those Doug Miller PSA commercials without feeling even a twinge of anxiety, just the sorrow for the preventable loss his family is living with.