Tail of the Weak 4.23
Updated: Jan 26
Tail of the Weak is a series of insights and musical memories from the mind of Uncle Dave Griffin, singer/songwriter and founder of the Annual Gram Parsons Guitar Pull and Tribute Festival, from Waycross, Georgia.
There is an annual fact of life for men over 50—just as sure as filling out and filing a 1040 tax form come April—and, if you're smart, you'll be paying a visit to a doctor who specializes in that most-uncomfortable practice of “The Finger Wave”. Prostate exams ain't pretty; but, when it comes to that area of the human anatomy,
I can't think of a whole lot that is.
I paid a visit to the good Dr. Craig Kubik, of Digestive Disease Consultants in Waycross, Georgia, to discuss the possibility of having my esophagus widened. While there, it was suggested that we set an appointment for an EGD (endoscopy) to examine from the gullet down to the first part of the small intestine. And, since it had been 15 years since I'd had a colonoscopy, we might as well take some up-to-date pictures where the sun don't shine.
My appointment was scheduled for a Monday morning, meaning preparations would commence at midnight come Saturday prior. The first thing to hurt my feelings was having to give up everything foodwise—except for chicken noodle soup minus the chicken; banana popsicles; applesauce; peach jello; and 7-Up—on Sunday, the day before.
Then came the colon cleanses—the first at 6:00 pm on Sunday and the second one four hours before the procedure on Monday. Granted, they're not the Fleet Home Enema kits I used to endure; but, this solution I had to drink was about as vile as a glass of unsweetened tea in a New Jersey diner.
It was a liquid combination of sodium sulfate, potassium sulfate, magnesium sulfate, and 42 ounces of water—forcing me on a steady “run” from the computer room to the mudroom bathroom. Unfortunately, on each “pass” through the kitchen, my stomach screamed like a south Georgia panther, while visions of BLTs, pot pies, and Kung Pao chicken “flooded” my mind.
I would have traded an inguinal hernia for a bowl of corn flakes by Monday morning, still hours before my office visit. Finally, food and sleep-deprived—you can't sleep when you're that hungry—I arrived on time, checked in, and was called to the back by Michelle, whose pretty face and soft touch with the IV injection made me feel a whole lot better about being buck naked under a hospital gown.
The curtained cubicle I was in had a small TV on the wall, with Catch 21—a Blackjack-themed contest on the Game Show Network—hosted by Alfonso Ribeiro, otherwise known as Carlton Banks on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.
I was able to watch a couple of rounds in between commercials—and, right when I was wondering what that female contestant's next move would be—De De parted the curtains and made my next move, professionally rolling me to the procedure room.
She took my blood pressure, then Bill—who was medically trained to knock me out—said, “Okay, you'll be going to sleep in 30 seconds”. That was all the time it took for me to watch Dr. Kubik slide on his surgical gloves. Goodnight!
When I came to, Kristy made sure I knew who and where I was, then told me I could redress to await the results from Dr. K., followed by a ride home with someone not named Uncle Dave at the wheel.
While I'd been out of it, Dr. Kubik had dilated my esophagus, where he found an adequate Z-line and a small, 2 cm hiatal hernia during the endoscopy. The “end” results were fairly normal—mild diverticulosis in the sigmoid colon, an internal hemorrhoid, and removal of two little sessile polyps.
The whole process took about an hour; and, I came out with some colorful, new interior and posterior photos. Thanks to Bill, the anesthesiologist, I didn't feel a thing. Although, I may have been dreaming about toilet seats—and doubling down on a Blackjack table—along with a Steak Ranchero lunch plate from Rodeo's Mexican Restaurant.
22nd Annual Gram Parsons Guitar Pull and Tribute Festival
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Memories straight from the mind of Uncle Dave Griffin