My mother was diagnosed with bowel cancer eight years ago. It was two days before the birth of my first nephew and while I was serving on a jury for a horrific trial in the central criminal court in Dublin. Thankfully her treatment was successful and she remains hale and hearty.

About four months after she received the all clear her doctor advised any of her children aged north of forty to undergo a colonoscopy to facilitate early detection of cancer if there was a familial risk.

With a speed synonymous with snails I finally asked my doctor to refer me for one this year. I thought I’d be waiting for several years considering how long waiting lists are on the Irish public health system. However my GP had other plans. He saw that I had private health insurance through work. Within two weeks I had an appointment in the new private Bons Secours hospital in Limerick.

I wasn’t particularly worried. I knew the test was merely precautionary. And two years earlier, my employer had done a free bowel screening campaign for staff. Dutifully I bagged a sample of excrement, sent it to the screening service and the results came back clear, several weeks later. A bowel screening was not a colonoscopy however. A colonoscopy is more thorough. It’s a test whereby a tube with a camera is inserted up the jacksie to view the inside of the large intestine and rectum to screen for bowel cancer or polyps that may later develop into cancer. Not exactly an appealing prospect but an effective method of screening. It was something that was a nagging reminder. Something that I knew I should undergo. But the inclination to actually do it was weak.

The letter of invitation contained a prescription for four sachets of an anti-constipation powder named Movicol; and a larger sachet for a heavy duty laxative named Moviprep. One’s inners were meant to be sparklingly clean for the camera tube to do its work.

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