At a typical dinner in my house, we avidly discuss—to some people, at least—the grossest things.
When the kids were younger, some conversations at mealtime were about nasal discharge and vomit. I asked my son to please throw the dirty tissue paper filled with his snot into the garbage. When my daughter was sick, I pleaded with her to puke in the trash can I placed next to her bed, not on the rug. I explained that it was impossible to scoop up chunks of vomit on a shaggy blue throw.
As my family got older, we moved on to more interesting subjects at mealtime. The kids were much better at controlling their bodily fluids, my husband and I became middle-aged, and it seemed as if no topic was taboo:
Me: “I need to schedule my colonoscopy. Can you pick me up after the procedure?” (scoops food onto a plate)
Husband: “Sure.”
Son: What’s a colonoscopy? (sips milk)
Me: “It’s when a doctor sticks a tube into your intestines to look around and make sure you don’t have colon cancer.”
Daughter: “Interesting.” (mixes pasta with sauce)
For a very long time, colonoscopy screening began at 50 years old, but after decades of examining the data, investigators found that a certain number of younger folks were developing colon cancer and dying from the disease. By lowering the screening age, the rationale was to find precancerous lesions early enough to prevent unnecessary death.
Today, it is recommended that an individual start screening for colon cancer at 45 years old. However, if a person has risk factors, such as family history, the screening could start even younger.
I knew these new guidelines meant I had to have a colonoscopy before my fiftieth birthday. The dread loomed in my mind, and I found a way to slip colonoscopies into conversations. Over dinner with my parents, I made them retell their colonoscopy experiences. I told my friends semi-jokingly that they had to schedule one because they were as old as me. I signed off all my group chats with three poop emojis and a big thumbs up. Referencing colonoscopies with anyone willing to listen was a way to deal with my worry about the test. Would the preparation be miserable? Would I be awake the entire night before the procedure, running to the bathroom every ten minutes? What if my doctor finds something wrong with me?
In the end, I had my colonoscopy done at age 48, and everything turned out fine. The prep (which consisted of Miralax, lemon Gatorade, and stool softeners) didn’t taste bad, but I didn’t sleep well the night before my appointment. I don’t talk about colonoscopies regularly over meals anymore; not everyone wants to receive medical information over food, and my casualness may be too “icky” for some. Thank goodness people put up with me. I’m due for my next screening colonoscopy in five years, so until then, my family can enjoy some peace at dinnertime.