Dr. Rosenberg said he'd do what he could, or at least I think that's what he said, but the drugs were kicking in, and here, I'd like to give a shout-out to Big Pharma.
Fentanyl is a work of genius. I was entirely conscious, yet blissfully oblivious and perfectly at ease despite having walked in there certain they'd find terrible things inside me. If I'd known what a snap the colonoscopy was going to be, I'd have brought in my laptop and written this column while the doctor worked. I could have played canasta or ping-pong. I wanted to sing.
Is that drug available over the counter?
Like millions of Americans, I'd foolishly put off this procedure for years, even though my doctor insisted it was important at my age to make sure everything was OK in that area.
Having a sister who is fighting cancer made me finally give in. Wanting to see school theater productions for years to come made me finally give in. If disease is detected early, of course, the chance of survival is greatly improved.
It was all over in 20 quick minutes, and Dr. Rosenberg seemed rather chipper as he wrote his findings on my discharge papers.
"Good news! No polyps or cancer. You don't need another colonoscopy for 10 years!"
Whewww!
The very next morning at breakfast, the day of the play, my daughter rehearsed while eating French toast. She plays a starfish.
"Dad," she said, "I can read my lines upside down with my eyes closed."
She comes from the school of method acting, and her body of work in Ms. Morris' class includes memorable turns in the holiday pageant and as a dancing senorita in the international fiesta.
This depth of experience made it possible for her to handle a devastating costume malfunction in the middle of the play. One of her five starfish points, the cone-head hat, tumbled off her head and crashed to the stage, but she retrieved it as if the play had been scripted that way.
Meanwhile, Augie's entire fish costume fell off. In the chaos that ensued, some of the young thespians were off their marks, and Zoe had to come through with the lines they were missing. Sasha, who didn't just play the Rainbow Fish, but BECAME the Rainbow Fish, stayed cool, even as the director implored the entire troupe to "SWIM, SWIM!"
And swim they did, away from the beautiful Rainbow Fish who had refused to share her dazzling scales.
"I'm so beautiful. Why doesn't anyone like me?" the Rainbow fish pouted, like a Hollywood starlet whose last movie opened poorly.
