The C Word
By Lori Welch Brown
The C Word
I joined a new club recently—it’s not incredibly exclusive, the initiation is daunting, and you will be happy to pay your dues and look for the nearest exit. I wasn’t in a hurry to join the ranks of The Colonoscopy Club, and now I understand why. Holy Toledo, Batman! I thought about changing the name of his column from Open Space to Cleansed (and CLOSED) Space.
Colonoscopy—yet another ‘c’ word that we have come to dread. Granted, it wasn’t THAT bad, but I really wish they would come up with a medical procedure that we actually enjoy. Is it too much to ask that they throw some research dollars at inventing a test that makes us feel like we are lying on a beach somewhere vs. someone looking up our newly excavated private parts? And how is it even possible that someone invented a tiny personal computer that we can hold with one hand and order a couch and dinner simultaneously, and yet they can’t invent a prep liquid that doesn’t taste like Drano? And, while we are at it, can someone please work on injecting a little fashion influence into the medical industry? If you weren’t depressed, you will be when you put that hospital gown on and look in the mirror. Let’s start with the color—can I get some fuchsia or maybe a nice tangerine?
Ever since I joined the 50 Club a couple of years ago, I’ve noticed that my membership options have left a little something to be desired. I’m actually looking forward to joining AARP just for the cool tote bag—which I definitely did not get when I joined the Colonoscopy Club, the Hip Replacement Club or the Cardiac Bypass Club. And—hey—if being in the Colonoscopy Club gets me permanently barred from the Cancer Club, well then I’m a huge fan, tote bag be damned. Renew me please and pass the Drano. Hopefully one day the Cancer Club will become so exclusive no one will be able to meet the requirements to join. Wouldn’t that be nice?
So, let’s switch up our whole club thing and launch some new, fun ones—ones that we actually want to join—ones with cute outfits, tasty beverages and a strict NO PROBING rule. When I was a kid, some friends and I started a Pet Club. It was top secret—even the location was hush hush as we cordoned off part of Mom’s laundry room by pinning a sheet over the clothes line. To be in this highly-exclusive club, you had to have a (wait for it…) PET! I had a hamster (Rufus) and one of those cute little lizard things—the one that when you spin it by its tail, the tail comes off and grows back. Sorry, but I didn’t say it was the Humane Society club. I would NEVER do that now. Heck—I wouldn’t even touch a lizard let alone swing it by its tail. Anyhow—my co-founder had a boxer turtle which was a big score. At the height of our membership, our club also included a gold fish and one of those tiny tree frogs. It was a lot of fun until Mom discovered our little reptile coven and reclaimed her laundry room. She then spread the word to all the other moms so we were forced to disband, which was a shame as we were ripe to go global—or at least add a guinea pig to the roster.
So how about a new Post-Fifty Club? No more ‘C’ words allowed unless it has a positive connotation. Maybe a Creativity Club? That sounds fun—I’d definitely join that. Cuddling Club? Maybe a little creepy. Culinary Club? Sounds tasty! Cat Club? Meowzzaaa! Canine Club? Gotta cover all the bases—can’t discriminate. I’m already a card carrying member of the Coffee Club just ask Starbucks.
Okay—let’s get out of this current c-scape of colonoscopy and cancer talk, and rush out to join our Tennis Club pals for lunch or pick this month’s Book Club selection. Whatever club you give your time and passion to I hope you approach it with courage, conviction, commitment, and maybe even some (non-creepy) cuddling. C-word be damned, and all pets are welcome!
To those of you who find yourself in the Cancer Club, you are some of the bravest, most courageous folks out there. Who can even complain about going through a silly little ol’ colonoscopy compared to chemo or radiation? Puts things into perspective…