Thoughts about colons

There are 2 kinds of colons. That I know of. One is a punctuation mark, and the other one ends in an orifice that kind of ressembles a punctuation mark.

This post is about the latter type of colon. Specifically, about the delights of ensuring your colon remains cancer-free.

I have a family history of colon cancer, on both sides. We've been diligent at getting screened, and the only person to die of colon cancer was 91 at the time - as they generally stop screening around age 80 on the theory that a colon cancer starting then won't have time to kill you before something else does, this should in no way reflect on said relative,s screening diligence. Although I have no idea if they screened or not!

Few things induce the ick more than the thought of a long anal probe. Really - admit it - you have to think for at least 2 minutes before you can come up with something that doesn't involve eating horrible things on Fear Factor. Maybe getting uncontrollable diarhea while in a toilet-free zone. That would be pretty bad.

So I'd like to blog my experience with said long anal probe. Because it wasn't that bad. Maybe I was expecting far worse, based on a couple of episodes of House, which as we all know is 100% medically accurate at all times.

The prep starts a couple of days in advance, with some dietary restrictions. I think it was seeds and nuts - they don't want them clogging the instrument. Neither do I. I'd like any probing to be as, um, smooth as possible. So I avoided seeds and nuts.

The next step is having a tiny breakfast before 8am the day before the procedure. This is your last solid food, and, for me far more sinister, your last hit of caffeine. So I got up early and had my normal bowl of cereal and 2 lovely cups of coffee. Fresh ground beans, French press coffeemaker - the usual.

Then I got to drink my first of 2 doses of Peco-Salex. I may be spelling that wrong. It's a fizzy orange drink, made from some powder. It draws liquid into the colon, thus inducing frequent bowel movements. So you can't go anywhere that is toilet-free, unless the scenario above with uncontrolled diarhea actually appealed to you. In that case, you don't need a colon inspection, you need psychiatric help. Good luck with that.

So the frequent liquid BM is actually not that bad. I mean, there is a finite quantity of crap in your colon, and even if you are a politician, it doesn't impact the shit in your head.

What is bad is hunger. We aren't used to hunger. OK, I'm not. Except in the gee I'm hungry let me get food kind of way. But hunger in the I can't eat until 2:00pm tomorrow is outside my experience, and I don't like it. This is coming from someone who frequently forgets to eat. Substitute a worse or better ability to tolerate hunger based on your own fasting experience, assuming you have any.

The second dose is not a big deal. You're pretty much empty. It's insurance for the gastro enterologist, who has no interest in, um, muddying their view with a poorly cleaned colon. I have no interest in a muddy view - I want a nice clean effective scope, so I was keen on following the instructions to the letter, so as to avoid a repeat procedure.

The next morning I woke up hungry. Wah, wah, millions of kids are used to that, but I'm a spoiled first world middle class type, so I am not. At least not waking up hungry and then not being able to eat. Spousal unit drove me to the clinic, I brought a book which had far too many food references (avoid Donna Leon if you're fasting), and eventually got to put on that delightful gown I'm sure was designed by Armani. Then a nurse stuck an IV into my hand - clearly highly experienced, it was not as painful as the ones I got when having my first child. The sedatives were lovely.

I was wheeled into the room with a monitor, doctor and nurse/aide of some sort. I wasn't about to start interviewing them. The monitor was positioned so I could watch, and I did. The drowsiness from the sedative lifted immediately upon insertion of the probe. But it didn't hurt, it's just that I could feel it. I felt full. But there was no pain, not even any real discomfort, it didn't last very long, and I was complemented twice on the quality of my "prep".

Oh, and if all you need to do is fecal occult blood testing, I used the technique where you collect the sample from the toilet paper. Googling techniques for stool samples is an, um, interesting insight into the ingenuity of humanity.

To sum up: colon cleansing makes you hungry, colon scoping is more boring than anything else, and the internet is full of odd ideas.

Bicycle gear

I've been cycling to work since I last blogged. It's been great.

Cycling involves a fair bit of delusion. I pretend I am saving money by riding in. True, I am no longer paying bus fare, and we are down to 1 car.

But that ignores a key part of the equation. Bike gear. There is an astonishing array of items cyclists can spend money on. I've been restrained since mother's day, when I caved in and bought clipless pedals and shoes. They are amazing.

Now I have a dilemma. For my birthday I got a new to me bicycle, picked up cheap at a garage sale, that I tested by riding in today. I wasn't sure what I was hoping - that it would be so much better I could justify spending money on it? That it would be so much worse I could let my daughter use it? It turns out to be a very decent little commuter bike, surprisingly fast, with great brakes and the noisiest gearing I've ever used.

So here is the dilemma. To make the bike suit me, it needs a new seat ($23), new pedals ($44), new tires ($46) and of course a spare tube ($3). Not a huge amount of money. But the bike itself cost $85, which is an amazing deal for a mid range Bianchi, but spending nearly double fixing it up when it's virtually unridden seems frivolous.

I also thought about the gear I have.

3 pairs of cycling shoes, ranging in age from 2 months to 20 years.
2 cycling jackets
1 pair of cycling shorts
Many t-shirts
4 panniers - maybe 6
Several lights, bells, reflectors not including those already on bicycles
2 pairs cycling tights, both over 20 years old and in excellent shape if you ignore the hole
Helmet - only 1, the old ones get tossed
Gloves

I haven't got cycling jerseys or other cycle-specific tops - really, how much lycra can a middle aged woman wear? And I am considering getting baggier shorts, the lycra ones, while comfortable, are, well, lycra. Tight shorts with a padded butt may not be my best look. Although I like to think I speed by so quickly no-one can tell.

Like I said, cycling involves delusion.

Spring cycling

Spring is really early this year. Really early - normally, our highs are still below freezing until well into March, but it's been above freezing every single day since February 26th.

That means the snow has melted, and it's rained so the dog poo of winter has washed away. Time for cycling!

When I last saw my bicycle, it had brand new slick tires and tubes to match - all set to go. And go we did.

First, the good things about the ride. It was sunny. There was minimal traffic, including other cyclists. No dog walkers. Few runners. Not that I mind either - but the paths can get crowded, and a small minority of dog walkers have trouble with the leash concept.

Now, a couple of mediocre things. I didn't wear warm enough gloves, and my hands froze to the point that it hurt when they warmed up. Chalk that up to idiocy - it's still below freezing at sunrise. This I know. Yet I grabbed thin gloves meant for the SUV driver, not the cyclist. One section of the path had a fair bit of snow, which my lovely new tires handled quite nicely. One had ice and slush, which I cautiously rode/hopped over - you know, you're on your bike, but pushing with a foot instead of pedaling. They actually had a "road under water" sign up - very cool, as it's pretty much a bike-only road. And, last but definitely not least, a good 4km of the bike path is under construction, so I had to ride on the road. A very nice road, but at this time of year the sides of the roads are covered in gravel and winter ick, so you need to ride closer to traffic than normal.

And, to end, a few more good things! I saw a street sweeper, so the road ick will soon be gone. My back tire held up well, despite being wobbly - I think the tube is bulging. And my helmet doesn't hurt the sore spot on my head where I bashed it when I fainted on Sunday. I'm really looking forward to the ride home - it's going up to 16!

I'm very happy I rode in. It is so awesome to be on a bicycle. There is nothing else like it. For me, it's the closest I get to flying, and who hasn't dreamed of flying?

Captain obvious paging idiocy, come in, idiocy

I was reading one of my favourite blogs – White Coat Underground – and found myself reading not one, but two long comment threads.

I don’t normally read long comment threads. Life is short. My eyeballs are old. And most comment threads just aren’t that interesting. But these ones were.

Pal MD’s post was in response to Isis the Scientist’s post and subsequent comments. She was replying to an e-mail sent to her by a female math grad student, who was creeped out by her advisor’s ogling. Isis mentioned, as part of the post, that in her student days she had been raped by a creep who she had refused to date. Horrible. I know too many women who’ve been raped.

The comments were mainly of the thanks for sharing, here’s my story, or here’s advice for the grad student form, but some were comments along the lines of hey, the advisor is complementing her, what’s the big deal, and women should take responsibility for protecting themselves.

Well, um, that’s where captain obvious hit me on the head. I’d never recognized how much of our culture focuses on the victim. I know that blame the victim is rampant in rape cases. But it extends beyond that, to blame the victim for failing to stop the attack, not just inciting it. So when the conversation steered in the direction of stating that rapists are responsible for rape, I found myself shocked that I had never thought of that. A d’uh moment indeed – of course rapists are responsible for rape.

So thank you to the commentors on those threads, who played captain obvious to my ignorance. Reducing the incidence of rape is not solely the responsibility of women. If we continue to believe and perpetuate the myth that women are even somewhat responsible for being raped, we give rapists an out, an excuse, a reason to avoid empathy and thought, an excuse for not controlling their violence or sexuality. To state that men can’t control themselves is insulting to men who can and do control their urges. And to state that women need to change, and not the culture that blames the victim and excuses the men, is not just insulting but dangerous, as it normalizes rape. Rape is an aberration.

Skating

Ottawa's amazingly wonderful Rideau Canal is open for skating - FINALLY. Global warming must skip the canal. Which would make it global except for the bit in Ottawa that Sarah really likes.

I was skating along this morning, as the sun was rising, remembering skating as a kid. My skating is, like most of my physical activities, good enough to enjoy but on the uncoordinated side. I learned to skate in Toronto, at an outdoor rink that, remembering Toronto, was probably open about 4 days a year. My parents held my hands. Then we moved to Thunder Bay, where the rink was closed about 4 days a year. We lived across the street from a large park that had 3 skating rinks - 2 with full boards for hockey, and a smaller one for those of us unable to skate and carry a stick at the same time.

We used to skate every day until our feet froze, then come in and my mom would make hot chocolate while we cried as our feet warmed up.

Then we moved to Ottawa, and got to experience the joy of skating in a straight line in the open air for miles. Can't stop or turn? The canal is the place for you. Don't like crowds? The canal before 9am or after dark is a wide open underpopulated space.

OK, so the surface isn't exactly Zamboni-smooth, but it's pretty good. I think I like skating for the same reason I like biking - you can go pretty fast on your own power for a long time, and don't need to be very good at it to go faster than you can run.

I've been out twice in the 2 days since the full length has been opened. Tomorrow's forecast? Rain. Fuck global warming. Ah well, at least I have the memory of a great skate.

DIY

My daughter Zoe now has a cork floor in her bedroom. It's called a floating floor, hopefully not because it'll get so wet with global warming that we'll need it as a raft. This is the second floor we've installed in our new to us house, and it went pretty well.

Things I learned.

Builders who put in angles other than 90 degrees are evil. If the odd angle has a doorway in it, and if the angle continues into a closet, they really, really, really hate the person who will be doing the finishing work. Did you know that a mitre box is great for 45 degree cuts, but no others?

If you could commit a sin strongly enough to go to hell, I'd be there. I had severe tool envy while installing quarter round. I really wanted a sliding compound mitre saw and an air powered nail gun. I had a mitre box, a hand saw, 2 hammers and a box of 2" finishing nails.

Quarter round is not corner round. I always thought it was called corner round. Not as funny a mishearing as the girl with colitis walks by, but still wrong. As it's 1/4 of a round stick, the name shouldn't surprise me. But it goes in the corner where the wall meets the floor, so either name fits.

2" nails are WAY too long for 11/16 inch quarter round. Unless you are looking for a real workout with a hammer.

Spackle in a tube is still one of my favourite things. Spackle. Spackle spackle spackle. Still love that word. Maybe one day I will grow up and not giggle every time I hear it. I hope not.

There are more than 4 wrong ways to cut a 45 degree angle, but only one right one.

A mistake doesn't use up much quarter round. The offcuts are amusingly curvy, and surprisingly plentiful.

Despite a total lack of experience installing trim, I can do a good job.

I should take pictures. Right now the cork floor - so beautifully installed people think it's a sheet and not planks - is underneath teen daughter's new furniture and mounds of clothing. Ah well.

I still need to install the reducer strip. If you leave a rough edge of flooring, you need to fix it before installing said strip. I spent over an hour today with a hammer and chisel, evening out the edge. Clearly there is a market for extra wide reducer strips. Unless I am the only person who measures, makes a paper mold of the odd cuts (thanks, oh creative builder, for your not quite perfect 135 degree angles), marks the piece, then adds a half inch or so at the door end. It is lovely and straight now, ready to install the perfectly cut piece of transition strip that will stop the ugly blue carpet from leaving bits all over the house. I think I will screw it in, so it's easy to remove when the carpet goes. The underpad was disintegrating, although I've removed worse.

Next job? Not sure. My credit card is keen for a break. The floor plus new furniture plus Christmas kind of caused it pain, even though most was paid off with the last bill. But boy, is the remaining blue carpet ever ugly...

Post Christmas installation blues

It used to be batteries - you never had enough for all the things you bought, no matter how carefully you checked the packaging. There would always be a remote or something that needed still more batteries. Even if you only bought teddy bears, they needed batteries. Or something.

Now it's more complicated, but there are fewer tears. We spent about 45 minutes setting up the new router - dual band, or something, so when we watch YouTube videos we don't get the spinning thing while the video decides if it should progress past the 1:03 mark. I can now spend more time watching the Muppets and Monty Python sketches.

We also set up the wireless wheel. Which has a mess of wires - only wireless if you add 65 batteries or so. See paragraph 1 above. Child #3 is loving the steering wheel game, and has bought and crashed one corvette. May his real life driving prove more cautious.

Then we attacked the PVR. The instructions lie. You have to call Rogers and convince them that you are a legitimate customer. Then they try to sell you stuff you already have. Then read out serial numbers, several times. It's been a few hours, but mostly that's because my husband - who bought the PVR - was over at his dad's chipping ice off his Cadillac for the last 2 hours. Ah, holiday ice storms. If the sun comes out, it will be spectacular.

All told, we had a very nice Christmas. The kids are happy with their gifts and seem to think we got them more than enough loot. We went sledding on Christmas day, and it was fun. The driving was fine, as the freezing rain didn't start till we were back. I got booze and chocolate, in quantity, so expect to see me in the New Year as a fat alcoholic.