Often times I find that just living life gets in the way of my goat farming. Not too long ago the doctor looked at me and said, "You are getting of that age (really past it). It is time for you to start your colonoscopy screenings." Have you ever noticed that after you get a certain age, these doctors start thinking of all sorts of things to do to you to keep you occupied? It’s like they think you look really bored and they can think of things to keep you busy, your time filled to the last minute.

I won’t even get into what a gynecologist can think up, our family doctor can think up plenty of his own activities for you. After putting it off for several months, I did have kidding and bottle feeding to get through, and then hay season, and then ... Shucks, I had a spare couple of days there and the doctor set up my colonoscopy screening. Rats.

The first thing they do is have the hospital call you a week before the screening to run tests to make sure you are fit enough to go through colonoscopy. When the nurse sit me down and asked if it was alright for people, other then the doctor and the nurses, to be in the room during my screening, I just stared at her. Who on earth would want to watch that? I about fell off the chair laughing and asked that very question. I wouldn’t want to be there, much less want to watch it.

She primly informed me that med students and drug representatives were present, if I okayed it. I thought, why not? I’ll be knocked out. But, no pictures, I told her. She looked shocked. But the instrument they use was a camera to take videos and pictures for the doctor’s records. I told her that would be fine, but I wasn’t handing out autographs.

I was given my instructions for preparing myself for colonoscopy and told to drink this very special liquid the day before to "clean" myself out for the next day testing. And, I was to only eat clear liquids from lunch time on and no liquids after midnight. The nurse said I shouldn’t get more then ten foot from the house after drinking that special concoction. Hey, I have animals to care for, what were these people thinking?

That special day arrived for my cleaning out time and earlier I had done all the chores I could to get them out of the way. Particularly after hearing some friends and relatives horror tales of drinking the stuff and not taking the warnings seriously.

I soon discovered I could get no more then ten foot from the bathroom. I pretty much stayed in or near the bathroom from 2 p.m. that afternoon until 3:30 a.m. the next morning. If you have a spouse and/or family, it’s really good to have two bathrooms in the house, because you pretty much take up occupation of the one. If you have just the one bathroom, now is the time to tell the family that the woods are particularly peaceful and beautiful this time of year for their "contemplation" or possibly even the corner filling station bathroom is their bathroom for a while. They’ll understand and stay out of your path.

I spent so much time in the bathroom, I started making plans on where to put the TV, the phone, coming up with new decorating ideas. Maybe a library rack with all the new books and magazines. A tea caddy for cups of tea? No, that might be a bit too much.

I was to be at the hospital by 5:45 a.m. so Lee and I got up at 3:30 a.m. Since I had been up most the night making bathroom decorating plans, I felt like it would be safe to help with the feeding. We had to wake the goats up to feed them. They were a little grouchy about it at first, but feed buckets always perk them up.

At the hospital the nurse put me in a little cubicle with one of those famous hospital gowns to put on. She then came in and put the IV in and wanted to know quite seriously about how much pain I could stand. I almost bragged that I had a really high thresh hold to pain and I stopped. Am I crazy?!!! I don’t want this to hurt. There was a wall chart on the wall with 10-12 smiley faces representing levels of pain. The little smiley faces got sadder and sadder as they went down the line until the last one was downright weeping in agony.

I pointed to the second from the first smiley face, showing an only very slightly concerned smiley face. I told the nurse I was a real wuss. I couldn’t take pain at all, no. 2 was at much as I could take.

She wrote it down and then told me that when I got to surgery, they would fill me up with gas. I asked what on earth for. She said so the camera could fit in better. First I had pictures in my mind of a bicycle pump and next came this picture of a huge 35 mm camera. Then, she firmly told me I was to get rid of that gas when I got into recovery and also when brought back down here. It was very important I got rid of the gas or I would not be allowed to go home. She sternly told me to not be polite, but let go of the gas. I got the idea.

They took me onto the next waiting area where the doctor, anesthesiologist, and several others came by to say hello and at fifteen after 8 a.m. they started to wheel be down the corridor to the surgery. That’s all I remember, being in that corridor. They really took me seriously that I could not stand pain. Boy, was I happy.

I woke up in recovery talking. I immediately knew I was out of surgery and my jaws were going a mile a minute. What was I talking about? My goats, of course! Explaining to anyone that walked by what a Boer goat was, how beautiful they were, what a lot of fun they were and also a lot of work if you ran over 100 head, and on and on and on. The doctor called Lee, who was in the waiting room, and told him I was awake and talking. He seemed to find that awfully funny. And, here I was seriously trying to educate everyone about goats.

What was the reoccurring question after that by every nurse that walked by? "Are you passing gas? Have you passed gas?" Finally, in the cubicle where I first started, another nurse asked me that question and I firmly told her, "Just don’t straighten or lift the covers." I was very concerned over everyone’s health on that floor. She seemed satisfied with that answer and never asked me again.

They soon turned me loose and Lee and I went out to celebrate. I hadn’t ate or drank anything since 6:30 p.m. and I had made many bathroom visits from that special drink, so feeling very depleted, we headed to McDonald’s. As you all know, Lee and I have been on that low carb Atkins’ diet since last spring and what did we get at McDonald’s? Besides the approved sausage and eggs, we got one of those high carb lovely biscuits. If you haven’t had a biscuit in over a year, it was glorious.

A few days later the doctor’s office called to inform me that the polyp the doctor took out was not cancerous, but suspicious enough that I would need another colonoscopy in a year. When I told Lee, he looked at me with a big happy face and said, "And, can we get another biscuit?" That’s the first thing I thought too. When life hands you a biscuit, don’t forget to butter it.