Well, I might as well go all in and tell you about my colonoscopy. Oh, I’m fine. I got the all-clear from the doctor. But (there’s a pun. Sorry. First of many.) I have to say, I was confused by his report to my family physician.

To me, he said, “You’ve got pockets of diverticuli, which everyone gets as we get older. Maybe get some more fiber,” and he shrugged, as if to say, nothing to worry about.

In the report to my doctor, he wrote, “Counseled the patient at length about the importance of adding fiber to diet.”

Huh? At length? Let me think. Okay. He shrugged. Was that supposed to be code for: make sure to eat shredded wheat (despite the fact that it tastes like hay and you’ll hate your life every day of your life for the rest of your life. Enjoy!)  Finger wag would have made the point more clear.

My suspicious New Jersey mind went places. Why didn’t he tell me to eat more fiber? Hmmm? Is it because he secretly HOPES I’ll get tumors and he can make more money off of me in the future? Perhaps?

But I thought it through. He actually wouldn’t make any more gross income (there’s another pun! Yikes, indeed.) off of my tuchus if I did get cancer. He’s just the one checking the plumbing. An oncologist would be treating me in that case. Still being from Jersey, I wondered: what if he gets kickbacks for every patient that does develop tumors? Hmm? Perhaps?

Talk about your back room deals! 😕

Eventually, I came back to my senses and realized it’s just a matter of words.

The way doctors talk to patients is informally, to make sure we understand. The way doctors talk to each other is informed by legalities. They write in a certain way to protect their own ass..ets (hey now!) in case they get sued.

Overall, it was a moment I’d like to put behind me. Yuck/yuk. Kind people, that’s my TMI story du jour, but please allow me one final pun:

The End.

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