Regular colonoscopy discussions with a parent prove no joking matter, writes MEL BUTTLE

THERE comes a time in your life where you have to drive a parent to and from a colonoscopy.

This week was my time to ferry my mother back and forth. There are a few options to fill in the time after dropping off your baby boomer and before collection. You can go home, but don’t get too settled as you’ll be back at the hospital quicker than you think. Or, you can wander around a shopping centre, however this can cause financial ruin, as the longer you’re near shops, the harder it gets to not buy things. I’m sure there’s an algorithm to support this somewhere.

I chose neutral middle ground. I went to a friend’s house, that way there’s internet, free coffee and it’s a good opportunity to spend a bit of time with someone – not quite an all-day visit, but almost.

Mum loves a colonoscopy. She’s told everyone she’s having one for weeks. I think it’s a sort of a highlight on her annual calendar. I’m glad it’s out of the way as I couldn’t stand hearing much more about it.

The unspoken polite society rules of not discussing one’s toilet habits goes out the window in colonoscopy season.

“I can’t drink anymore of that horrible stuff,” she says, referring to the prep she has to drink to be clean and clear for the procedure.

“I feel the same way about sambuca,” I reply.

“Not the time for jokes Melinda,” she states. I couldn’t disagree more, but I pipe down. This would be approximately Mum’s 25th colonoscopy. She’s addicted to them. I’d recommend that they get a loyalty card system for my mother, and maybe give her every tenth one free.

I’m glad she’s looking after her health. I mean, who knows what they’ll find up there. I made one final joke about this on the way to the hospital. Mum had just said: “I hope they don’t find anything.” A tense moment. I broke it with: “Maybe they’ll find that wheel of camembert you ate all by yourself at Christmas.”

I got an icy glare for that one.