So far, aging has been a walk on the beach for me. Goody. But there are occasional indignities
and surprises. This morning, for instance, I received a package containing an extremely ornate
kit with which to take samples of my very own poop. And send it to some lab. No details, but
just imagine sitting down – in an appropriate spot – with this kit in your lap and digging in. Not
nice. Not dignified. Not gonna do it.
Yes I am. I vaguely remember that this little exercise is designed to find blood in your poop.
Which may be a sign of CANCER! EEK! At my age, your peeking under the rug, around the
corner… everywhere for cancer. ‘Cause the sucker can rise up at any time… carry you off. Like a
cat with a field mouse. Okay, on to the Poop Peek. I’ll keep you posted. But first, a fall bike ride.
A pal gave me these handsome bike shorts (pic) for my birthday. Next year a walker? Not if I can help it.