There comes a time when, on the surface, there are no more hidden secrets, no mysteries to explore, and no sensations left to feel. There’s a time when the outer shell of our body has been sent through the wash cycle a billion times, scrubbed, burnt, gouged, photographed, exposed, cut, abused, loved, caressed, hated, chilled, heated, wind-burned and saturated with all manner of experiences. At this pinnacle, the reward is that of Jacques-Cousteau proportions – to plumb the debts into the darkest and most unexplored regions, to go against the current and into the vortex.
So here I stand, my bowels almost fully void and prepped, on the eve of this great adventure, when, at a time fit for the contemplative moments of the day, I will undergo what most can only dream about – like 14- to 15-year-olds waiting to learn to drive: a colonoscopy.
Wish me luck. Pictures to follow!
Loren M. Lambert © June 10, 2013
So here I stand, my bowels almost fully void and prepped, on the eve of this great adventure, when, at a time fit for the contemplative moments of the day, I will undergo what most can only dream about – like 14- to 15-year-olds waiting to learn to drive: a colonoscopy.
Wish me luck. Pictures to follow!
Loren M. Lambert © June 10, 2013
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