Now that I’ve hit the milestone of the big 5-0, my doctor has recommended that I take more tests than I used to.  Since both my parents died of cancer at a comparatively young age, I’ve decided to follow these recommendations.  Two weeks ago, in addition to my annual mammogram that I have done for the past ten years, I also had a bone density test.  As I changed into my special “test outfit,” (hospital cape open in the front), I chuckled to myself that my word for the year is humility.  I am a modest person and exposing my body to a technician is a bit embarrassing for me.  The mammogram is far less painful than it was many years ago, and the bone density test was also a piece of cake.  I was in and out of both of those tests in less than half an hour and quite relieved to receive a letter informing me that I am unremarkable.

This week has been a bit crazy as I prepared for my first colonoscopy, which I had yesterday.  On Tuesday evening, I fondly savored a piece of dark chocolate, knowing it would be last solid food I would get to enjoy until Thursday afternoon.   Even though I was teaching on Wednesday morning and tutoring reading on Wednesday afternoon, I only had Gatorade, Snapple, water, vegetable broth, and three popsicles.  At 4 pm, I mixed the dreaded gallon laxative, electrolyte concoction with water and began to drink it, 8 ounces at a time until half of the prescription was consumed.  At first, I was wondering why everyone warned me to stay near a bathroom after drinking the mixture.  Then my stomach began gurgling, and I dashed to my bathroom retreat where I remained for a good chunk of the evening.  Even though I was drained, I set my alarm for 3 am to repeat the process.   I arrived at the Endoscopy clinic ready for the whole experience to be over.  Then I was instructed to change into another hospital gown, opening int he back this time, and submit a urine sample on the off-chance that I was pregnant.  How can I be young enough to still get pregnant but old enough to need this embarrassing test?  The test itself was a tranquil nap for me, much needed after my active night.  Before I left, I was presented with some pictures and a report saying that my colon is unremarkable.  I don’t have to retake that test for another ten years.

I remember the first time I received results that said, “Unremarkable,” I was a bit offended.  I am a unique person with much to contribute to the world, and yet the one adjective the results used to describe me was “Unremarkable.”   Then I thought about the fact that unremarkable can also mean normal and disease-free.  Now I am thrilled to be considered unremarkable.