I AM A PERFECT ASSHOLE!

The results are in, and my colon is "...amazing."

As I contemplated my navel, and the paper shorts with the tape-strip rear door, I scanned my iPod for appropriate procedure music.

At first, I thought about Bruce Springsteen's Born To Run. Then, I contemplated some Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. Finally, I settled on a musical shuffle, songs popping up at random, and putting me in the mood for the invasion.

As an aside, I note the beautiful synergy of having a colonoscopy on the 63d anniversary of D-Day.

I also would point out that, at no time, was the song "Chances Are" playing while I was having the procedure.

I said that I wanted to have a minimal amount of sedation, so that I could watch the progress of the probe.

My nurse said, "Yeah, right. Everyone says that, then they chicken out about a third of the way through the [ten minute] procedure."

Me: "No, I want to watch. And, I won't be crying for drugs midway through."

Nurse: "Suuuure. [To the other nurse] How long before you have to give him more versed?"

Me: "I'll make it."

Nurse: "I'll bet you a hundred dollars you won't."

And so, I watched, the whole damn thing. It was not pleasant, but it wasn't horrible either. Ten minutes of my life, which could very well have saved my life, if there were any problems. Ten minutes that could have saved hundreds of thousands of dollars in cancer treatment, and spared family and friends a great deal of anguish.

In the end, everything was fine. The music worked nicely (Jimmy Buffett's "Holiday" makes a neat contrast to a camera jammed up your ass), and I won my bet. Unfortunately, the nurse welshed on her bet.

Bitch.

And, I have proof, with a reasonable degree of medical certainty, that I am a perfect asshole. But, I knew that.