how much do you know about your colon?

I had a colonoscopy in December*. It’s a standard cancer screening procedure in the United States once you’ve turned 50. They didn’t find any cancer, but both the doctor and the paperwork I was given (the paperwork included fresh pictures of my insides; one showing my intact appendix) stated that I have a “grossly redundant colon”.

In plain language that means that my colon is several times the length of a normal person’s. It’s a nuisance for a doc trying to navigate a tiny camera, but it’s not dangerous, and has no symptoms.

A grossly redundant colon is a hereditary condition, though.

So at one point I asked my parents about it, to learn which one of them had given me my extra-long intestines. My parents are both in their 80s, and have lived their whole lives in Sweden, a country with national health care and some of the best research hospitals in the world.

Neither of my parents knew anything about the length of their colons, because neither of them had ever had a colonoscopy.

According to an article in the New York Times today Americans pay more for medical procedures than people in any other well developed country. In the case of colonoscopies, American medical centers bill insurance companies $7-8000 for a screening procedure that would cost $650 in another country, if it’s even performed. Only in the US are colonoscopies the go-to screening test for colon cancer, because there aren’t, actually, any data to support that colonoscopies are better than less expensive screening methods. Another example: A nasal spray that costs $108 in the United States will run you $21 in Spain.

“The United States spends about 18 percent of its gross domestic product on health care, nearly twice as much as most other developed countries.”, the NYT article states. Winners? Health care providers, manufacturers, drug companies, all working together to drive up costs. Losers? Whoever pays the insurance premiums.

* Also known as the day when Dan wasn’t white enough to drive me home.

the new york yellow

I’ve had this site bookmarked forever, and last night I went over there to have a look. Fretting over prices, and import rules, I gave up. Then I went to my favorite auction site (no link for them because they really don’t need more exposure) and found the one I REALLY wanted for a fraction of the price. Thanks, disappointed bag buyer in New York! I’m sure this will make us both very happy.

that tree

I don’t know how many photos I’ve taken of this view. I pass it most days on the trail where I hike in the Santa Cruz mountains. It’s close to my house, and on the weekends the trail is full of bicyclists, families, and dogs. Weekdays, or early in the mornings, it’s empty. When I was younger and stronger I used to run up here every morning before work. The hills are green for a few weeks in April and early May. The rest of the year, yellow like this.

yes, a lovely time sponge

I seriously challenge you to get anything done after you’ve tried geoguessr. This super addictive game gives you images from somewhere in the world using google street views, and it’s your job to guess where it is. You deliver your guess by placing a pin somewhere on a map of the world. Obviously you are limited by where google has had their cameras work, and after a while you learn the blind spots. But other than that it’s completely addictive to try to guess locations based on vegetation, the color of the lines in the middle of roads, street signs, years and models of cars, and the presence or absence of over sized pieces of communist art.

oh-high-oh

Five years ago today I was a couple of weeks into 20 weeks of chemo therapy treatments. I had just lost my hair and the drugs were kicking my butt. I wasn’t scared. And that’s what boggles my mind when I think back.

I’m having my annual mammogram this week, and it’s freaking me out. I’ve had a few of those after treatment, and every time I’ve been shaking, or crying, or both. Last year I felt dizzy and had to go sit down before we could finish. (If you’re a woman you know it’s not just one x-ray either.)

Maybe it’s a delayed response, or maybe it’s just the overall knowledge that I could have died. No, that I would have died hadn’t it been for modern medicine.

Right now I’m making plans to go to a wedding over the 4th of July weekend, in Ohio. A friend of mine is getting married to his boyfriend — or, rather, they have chosen July 5 to celebrate the fact that they got married a little while earlier, in a state that recognizes gay marriage.

The two parts of this story are unrelated, more or less. I’m glad to be alive, and I’m glad Noel and Kyle can get married. Times change.