Let it be said that I am not one to cosy up to conspiracy theories. However, it strikes me as odd that nobody warns you about the interesting “extra” that arrives in your life, when you reach a certain age. A version of MOT for older humans, pretty much guaranteed to dismiss any fleeting thoughts of still being ‘young enough’…for anything!
Some of these interventions are universal, such as the exploration of the length of your colon with a miniature camera. If you’re lucky, you get live streaming of this event with a running commentary from a disembodied voice behind you. My theory is that you never actually see the person performing this intimate procedure, just in case it’s your next door neighbour. Puts a whole new perspective on over-the-fence chats!
Gender specific inspections are almost a spectator sport as they generally take place in a clearly marked mobile unit, sensitively parked in the middle of a supermarket car park. Your arrival, that only has accompanying trumpets missing, fades from your mind as you are instructed to take your top off. A somewhat vague command that requires interaction to clarify that one should be entirely naked from the waist up. What follows is a contortionist’s dream ending with one of your breasts clamped and squeezed, to the point of popping, whilst the corresponding shoulder is pushed back and head tilted away. Falling over is not an option as appendage removal could result! After 4 of these processes (yes, I know we only have 2 breasts) you are permitted to dress and stumble away from this caravan from hell with the remnants of your dignity in tatters, much like the bra you knew you shouldn’t have worn.
One of my equally aged friends recently commented that our age group seem to develop a lot of health issues. Hmmm – is this when we reach 50 and our bodies start to disintegrate as a matter of course? Or, could it be, that all this enquiry and investigation inevitably identifies weaknesses in any system. Chicken and egg all over again!
Now I’m all in favour of detecting unpleasant afflictions at an early stage in order to avoid crises. However, any living person subjected to the scans, blood tests, prodding and poking that become the norm for the 50 plus brigade, is likely to have at least a few issues worthy of a more intrusive inspection.
My default response to the challenges of life, is to catastrophise. This generally results in imagined scenarios well beyond the realms of credulity. As a consequence, I can only foresee two possible outcomes here. It may be that there are more surprising and skin-tingling revelations waiting for me when I join the 60 plus gang. Alternatively, the health police may arrive at my door later today, arrest me for spreading unfounded rumours and lead me away, muttering to my loved ones “Early onset …”
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