Doctors and Drums

It was a week of doctors and drums for me. I went in for the kind or routine exam that doctors make you do in order to get your prescriptions refilled and ended up with a colonoscopy. This is not exactly the kind of procedure I look forward to. They keep assuring you that it’ll be fine because even if you’re awake and aware during the exam you won’t remember anything.

Does anyone else find this a touch disturbing?

The prep for it is hard. You spend a day emptying out. That means no eating all day, and drinking a lot of medicine that will make you run to the bathroom. To say I was not looking forward to it was putting it mildly. In the end, it wasn’t that bad. I could go into detail here, but I’m spare you. You’re welcome. 🙂

Over the weekend Mr. Al dragged me off to do African drumming. A local group had brought in someone who originated in West Africa. We went to lessons on Saturday and again Sunday and attended a concert Saturday night. This ate into our NaNo time a bit, but it’s only offered a few times a year, so we didn’t want to miss out. It was a blast!

It occurred to me that these two activities are on polar opposite of social interactions. Drumming is something best done in a group. A lot of songs can’t be played in a satisfactory way without at least one other person to play with, and most have three parts for one kind of drum alone. In Africa, these songs are an integral part of life – often made for certain activities and events. It’s a community thing.

Health care tends to put the victum patient in isolation. First, your pains and conditions are your own. No one else feels your pain. If you don’t say anything, a lot of people will never know. When you do go in for treatment, they put you in a little room by yourself and send individual people – first a nurse, then the doctor – in to see you.

I’ll admit the colonoscopy was a bit more of a group event, as I was obliged to present my back side to the doctor and a flock of nurses/tech/specialists. But then they gave me the nice drugs and I don’t remember the rest, so we’re back to isolation thing. Besides, being surrounded by all these strangers with the right to mess with our body just makes the sense of isolation stronger.

Isn’t that a bit ironic? After all, it’s when you aren’t feeling well that the touch of a loved one means the most.