Englishmen in Rubber Gloves

Tomorrow marks a big day in the saga of Morley and his (former) Mega Tumor: his six month colonoscopy to make sure that bad daddy tumor is really, truly gone.

The doctor took a preliminary look-see a couple of weeks ago and reported things look great but tomorrow's test will tell the real tail...er, the real "tale" I meant to say. (Sorry about that. Even after all this time the colon jokes are hard to pass. Up. Hard to pass up.)

Okay, I think I have the colon jokes out of my system for now. Moving on.

Needless to say, there is a new Colo rectal specialist in the picture now. We jilted the original surgeon at the proverbial surgical altar, so the Mayo Clinic hooked us up with a new guy here in Atlanta. He's not only a Mayo Clinic grad but an Englishman to boot. The minute Morley heard his homeboy accent he just knew he was in the very best rubber gloved hands.

Unlike the first doctor who was so full of himself that it was impossible to talk to him for more than five minutes at a time, this guy seems to have all the time in the world to talk with his patients. Morley tells me the topics discussed during office visits range from his current bowel habits to favorite childhood pub foods to thoughtful comparisons of English ales (he's a Speckled Hen kind of guy, by the way). The point here being that the doctor-patient relationship is a hundred times better than the one we had with Dr. Goofball, the original surgeon. (And on a personal note, I can report some improvement in my ability to think about beer and poop being discussed in the same conversation without feeling slightly queasy.)

We report to the Outpatient Center tomorrow morning at 6:30 AM for the colonoscopy and hope to report to the nearest Waffle House around 11:00 so Morley can eat his first meal in 24 hours. I'll keep you posted on how the test results turn out, but not to worry--we already know they'll be good.

All's well when the End is well. Bottom's Up. The End.

Okay, I'm done now.


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