The True Story Of My Husband's Splendid Colon

My husband was sent a letter

At the age of fifty-five

Inviting him to have a colonoscopy.

This must be the call up age

For our brave boys

To have a camera stuffed up their bums.

The hardy doctors inspecting for polyps

 Or other anomalies living within.

Although a choice, and not a nice thing,

It seemed churlish not to accept.

So an appointment was made

And preparations begun.

Firstly a dressing gown had to be purchased

And slippers of which he had neither

But walking through the corridors naked

Was something we agreed may be discouraged.

The week before a present arrived

A large enema to clear the bowels

I offered to administer this

However he felt the remaining secrets

 That we had from each other 

Would be removed by this action

So gallantly ordered a takeaway curry

 A vindaloo to do the job denying the hands on approach.

The morning arrived, taxi booked

And off we went on our adventure

Agreeing some early hour the better to get it over

The afternoon for rest and recuperation.

We sat together holding hands

In an empty waiting room

Secret panic as enormity rises

And negative thoughts sneak in.

His name was called and off he went

A smiling nurse with care in her eyes

And I heard her ask if he had purged

And half laughed, half shuddered as I knew his reply.

I read my book and leafed through magazines

The only time I get to met the new, young, famous

I am far too able to pretend disinterest in in normal life

And waited for the return of my valiant hero.

And return he did, bag overflowing with nightwear

But slippers still on his feet

Waving a photograph above his head

Showing me and the now full waiting room,

Bemused passersby and porters 

While declaring ownership of the most ‘splendid colon’,

Pushing the image up to my face 

Of his smooth walled pipe.

On our journey home the taxi driver seemed interested,

Or maybe professionally polite.

I asked the question that was hanging unsaid.

Well did the curry do the trick?

Apparently not, it is not an NHS formality 

To allow Vindaloo to act as a clearing agent

And irrigation was swiftly administered,

Thank goodness not by my hand.

His splendid colon is now stuff of legends

Friends have offered to write songs

Odes will be narrated,

Theatrical performances presented,

And my husband’s passageway will be mentioned to students

As they train to examine rectal corridors

Held as an example of how a diet of curry and beer

Can ensure your colon will always be clear.