But I know deep down you care about my health, so let me explain my recent absence from the Board…. Tuesday morning I had to submit to both a colonoscopy (Hey wait! Come back!) and an Upper G.I. endoscopy. I’m still not sure exactly what happened, but I believe with the first procedure the Transamerica Pyramid was lovingly inserted up my [profanity filter, help me here!] Lonnie Dixon [thanks!]. The device then took the scenic tour of my large intestine while I, under mild sedation, kept thinking of Richard Gere for reasons that escape me. Perhaps miraculously, my personal food pyramid, whose cornerstones have been medium-rare filets and Ben & Jerry’s Wavy Gravy, has apparently resulted in “the colon of a 16 year-old.” I can only hope he doesn’t want it back.

The second procedure involved cramming a garden hose down my throat, through my stomach, and on into the duodenum. I asked the doctor if, when coupled with the colonoscopy, there might be some kind of alimentary Golden Spike ceremony. Perhaps because the gastroenterologist hails from Hyderabad, India, my U.S. History 170 reference was lost on him, and I don’t know enough about the Trans-Indo Railway to have tailored the joke to my reluctant audience. Unfortunately, the second procedure revealed an inflamed stomach and a duodenal ulcer. Dr. Baboo asked me various questions trying to ascertain the origin of these ailments. I caved under a withering cross-examination and, when I reported I was a BYU football fan, he nodded knowingly and walked off, mumbling something like “beddy beddy bad.” He prescribed some antibiotics, a couple of other drugs, and a better offensive line.

To those approaching AARP eligibility (thank heavens for BYU'71) and the prospect of enduring similar healthcare indignities, I can report the procedures aren’t all that awful, and the relief of knowing one is not at death’s door is worth the modest discomfort. Indeed, the worst element of the ordeal is having to drink the night before the procedure one gallon of what may be the worst beverage ever concocted (and that includes BYU Sparkle), the purpose of which is to totally flush out one’s innards. I made the mistake of asking the doc if the beverage came from his hometown well. That may explain why he felt the need to re-insert the Transamerica Pyramid “just to make sure.” The guy has no sense of humor.

It's good to be back.