When you hit 50, you start holding your breath. It might be a month; it may be over a year, but at some point you are going to have a conversation with your doctor. He is going to casually say, almost under his breath, "Well, don’t you think it is time for a sigmoidoscopy?"

I’m 51. You might say that I got a year’s reprieve. That was nice, but the conversation did come up and, after one postponement, today is the day.

I am not sick. I’ve felt better when I was sick. I am not having surgery. I am having a procedure – routine at that. There is no sympathy available. I drive myself in and drive myself home.

But it monopolizes the whole day. It’s not the event; it’s the preaparation. Do I drink another glass of water?

I just thought I’d hare that with whoever is reading this. I may come up with a profound application of deep truth at some point, but not at the moment.

Enjoy your day and I will try to enjoy mine.