There are things in this world I wouldn’t wish on any man. Having your bladder inspected by a flexible cystoscope while wide awake is one of them.
Yes, I know this world is a place of suffering. At least, I know it theoretically. But theory turned to practice last week when I went to have my bladder examined. With a light. And a camera. On the end of a flexible tube.
The body is a wonderful machine designed by God. It has nine holes, none of which, I can assure you, were really designed to accomodate a camera. Flexible or otherwise.
During the procedure, which lasted an excruciating twenty-three years, seven months, six weeks, nine days and countless hours, I came to the conclusion that in some distant previous life I had to have been an active member of the Spanish Inquisition; someone who zealously tortured others to assess their fidelity to the Holy Catholic Church. And now, in this life, I was being made to suffer the consequences of my actions. Otherwise why on earth would I be laid out on my back with people causing me pain?
A strange, yet welcome distraction was watching the inside of my body in glorious colour on a television screen. You watch it – and feel the pain at the same time. Its a slasher horror movie, and the blood is all yours.
But I’m not really complaining. It’s all to check for a return of cancer and so its a form of tapasya: voluntary acceptance of pain now for slightly less pain later on. That’s the idea. Some biopsies were taken and I will get the results in another two weeks.
So my dear readers, please chant Hare Krishna and remember: You are not your body, but you do have a body – so take care of it.