Guest Guru: Alisa Singer – Of Horcruxes, Cracker Jack Boxes and Colonoscopies

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Of Horcruxes, Cracker Jack Boxes and Colonoscopies

By Humorist and illustrator, Alisa Singer

Harry Potter fans will recall the scene in the series’ sixth book when Dumbledore agonizingly forces himself to drink a basin of vile green potion. It turned out that, in a cruel twist on the Cracker Jack box gimmick, Lord Voldemort had hidden one of his treasured Horcruxes at the bottom, to be accessed only by one who drinks the entire contents of the basin. The wise Dumbledore had deputized his protégé Harry Potter to ensure he finished every last drop of the foul liquid, no matter how much he protested.

Persons of my vintage may be forgiven for seeing Dumbledore’s self-inflicted torture as akin to the dreaded process of preparing for a colonoscopy. So, the evening before my own procedure I took a page from the great wizard’s playbook and recruited my teenage daughter to be my “Harry”, charging her with the job of making sure that I drank all of the several thousand ounces of the nauseous mixture my doctor required me to swallow.

With my daughter at my side to urge me forward I eyed my nemesis, an enormous plastic jug that looked like it belonged on a shelf in someone’s garage filled with antifreeze. I was overcome by feelings of loathing and trepidation rising from, as one might expect, deep within my bowels. (These are the kinds of feelings a clogged pipe might entertain towards a can of Drano, if plumbing fixtures had emotions.)

Nonetheless, I stiffened my sinews, summoned up the blood, screwed my courage to the sticking place and grimly began to drink, quoting liberally from Dumbledore throughout: “.. …Don’t like it …. want to stop…No more, please, no more …”, followed by choruses of “I want to die! I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, I want to die!” and “KILL ME!”

I was rather proud of how my daughter handled her responsibilities during my ordeal – the girl’s made of some stern stuff. Promises of designer jeans, a car of her choice when she turned 16 and a lavish destination wedding someday (with the groom of her choice) were as gnats against the great windshield of her determination. Her resolve did waiver a bit when I dangled the condo in Aspen but, ultimately, she did not succumb. Of course, I made it relatively easy for her. Only once or twice was she required to wrestle me to the ground, kneel upon my chest, squeeze my nostrils shut and pour liquid down my throat.

Finally, I gulped down the last few ounces and collapsed into a chair. (There was, unhappily, no prize at the bottom of the container, not even a Horcrux.) Assuming the aspect of a guppy floating on its side on the surface of a fishbowl, I waited for nature, abetted in this case by a wide assortment of toxic chemicals, to run its inevitable course.

It occurred to me later that this is likely one of those situations in which men and women might differ in their approach. I theorized that women, being natural “pleasers”, would tend to assiduously drink every last drop out of fear of disappointing the authority figure, i.e., the gastroenterologist. Whereas men, their brains awash in testosterone, would be more likely to discount directives issued by others and adopt a more defiant, “good enough, I’m done”, attitude.

I had one anecdotal bit of supporting evidence for this theory. The brother of a friend of mine, a not-to-be-named anchorman for a major television network, decided to do an on-air colonoscopy in the hope of motivating everyone who was AARP-eligible to run out and, with great alacrity, schedule their own procedure. His plan was to walk through the experience from beginning to end, finishing with a dramatic endoscopic image of his colon. Unfortunately, being a man, his preparation for the procedure was less than exemplary, with the result that the image of his colon wasn’t appropriate for prime time viewing. Not to be deterred, he made a secret deal to borrow pictures from a female TV celebrity who had earlier done her own on-air colonoscopy and whose colon was, of course, squeaky clean. (She, being female, had completed the prep process with the commitment to perfection she brought to bear in all things.) The audience never knew whose colon they were actually viewing.

I put the question to my own doctor, a prominent gastroenterologist who has performed tens of thousands of these procedures: “Are women more likely than men to thoroughly complete the odious evening-before exam prep?” After seriously pondering the matter for a moment, he said he finds both genders arrive similarly prepared as a rule; however, he pointed out that a woman’s colon is longer than a man’s (who knew?) and because they are also typically smaller people, it is harder for them to swallow all the liquid and get the job done. The fact that they are able to prepare as well as the men, given these obstacles, would support a conclusion that women are generally more committed to following instructions attentively, even under highly unpleasant circumstances. He also recounted an incident where the male CEO of a major company arrived for his procedure without having done any prep at all. He apparently expected the doctor to somehow “fix” this for him, being accustomed to not having to deal with disagreeable tasks in his life. To his surprise, the doctor sent him home to drink his gallons of noxious liquid.

I wondered whether Dumbledore’s own determination to drink every drop of the potion might not pose evidence inconsistent with my theory. I raised my concern to my daughter. “Ah,” she said, “you forget”. She proceeded to remind me of the dramatic disclosure made by J.K.Rowling to an assembly of her fans in Carnegie Hall in 2007 – Dumbledore, it turns out, was gay.

Alisa Singer’s humorous essays have appeared in a variety of print and online newspapers and magazines across the country and in Canada.

She is the author of various gift books designed to entertain and amuse baby boomers. You can learn more about her work and purchase her books by visiting her website: www.AlisaSinger.com or contacting her at ASingerAuthor@gmail.com.

Posted by Alisa Singer on Jul 28, 2010 print article e-mail to a friend