Back To Law Matters | Summer 2015

A View From the Bench

Each phase of life seems to have its own rite of passage.  Puberty brings with it skin eruptions and changes in the body. Middle age brings with it a slowing metabolism, often creeping weight gain, and, for males, thinning hair. As one sails out of middle age and into that unchartered part of the “age map” which simply bears the notation “here there be dragons”, one is likely to stumble upon a new delight: the colonoscopy.  

Now, I well understand and acknowledge that it is not my place to comment on whether routine colonoscopies are useful.  That is a debate best left to those with actual knowledge of the topic (as opposed to political debates which do not seem to suffer from that tiresome encumbrance). In any event, now that I have had a colonoscopy, I can think of no reason why others should be spared the delight. With the event now safely in the rear-view mirror (this topic begs for such comments), I can look back (I warned you… it goes with the topic) at the experience with sanctimonious bravado.

I can tell you that I was extremely impressed with the kind treatment I received from everyone involved. From the first contact to arrange an intake appointment to the final friendly wave as I left the facility in the care of my dear wife, I was treated with consideration and patience.  The talking, thinking end of me was not ignored just because the other end was the real object of interest. The booking staff even saw the humour in the fact that they booked my procedure for April 1… April Fools’ Day.

“Purge” may not be a classic example of onomatopoeia (when the sound of the word imitates that to which it refers), but it is one of those words, the very sound of which captures the emotion of the act it represents.  In preparation for a colonoscopy, one must clean out the area to be examined, and to do that one must purge one’s self of what is normally found in one’s bowels. “Purging” is as much fun as it sounds, and accomplishing it in the early 21st century is not much more pleasant than it was when it was effected by medieval  physicians.   The method currently in use is having one consume about four litres of a viscous liquid which one would have thought to be more at home in a nasal cavity. I will leave it at that.  When one goes to the pharmacy to get the concoction, one is handed a very large plastic container which is empty but for a small amount of powdered substance lying benignly at the bottom. However, it is not the foreshadowing of the large volume of  liquid one is going to have to drink which is most distressing. Rather, it is the look of sympathy on the face of the dispensing pharmacist which is most unsettling.  Picture the look one would have received from a prescient booking agent as one purchased passage on the Titanic.  One can read in the apothecary’s eyes the plea: “Don’t blame me for what is about to befall you.”

Quite simply, the preparation for the colonoscopy is far worse than the actual procedure. However, the preparatory phase does have one additional benefit: along with the spirited expulsion (cannon fire, comes to mind) of any bodily contents which are not firmly attached, any sense of modesty is also pretty much gone by the time one reports for the procedure.  By then, it is undaunting to be placed beside a bed which is screened off by sheets from many other identical beds beside which stand other similarly defeated individuals, and to be left with the instruction to “take off all your clothes, and put on this gown. You may keep your socks, if you wish”.  I assume that keeping one’s socks is a function of warmth, and not a defence of some oddly placed and final bastion of modesty. 

I know that we in the legal profession are often criticized for making people feel uncomfortable in places such as courtrooms, but it seems to me that we are mere amateurs at creating discomfort when compared to a profession which starts off by having you discard your clothes.  It is pure genius to then have the person put on a gown which has ties at the back but certainly does not close at the back (and, I suspect, was never meant to).  One can do no more than sit back in admiration, and learn from such people.

As for the procedure itself, I remember nothing due to the wonders of drugs. However, I have had it described to me, and I do wonder what kind of person wakes up one day and says, “I think it would be a great idea to take a tube, affix it with a light and camera, and then insert it into a person’s….”, well you get the idea.  I can report that, in my case, all’s well that ends well.

The only remaining question is how I should bring this column to a close.  Given the topic, there really is no alternative, except: THE END.