Since it’s a pain in the butt to fill out your March Madness Bracket, we bring you word today from the colon.

Heard a friend talking about his initial colonoscopy yesterday. He and his colon have refused to participate.

Bad choice, but (butt?) — I understand. Being a grownup and having a colon, well, that’s not for sissies.

It was easier when we were young. The doctor thumped on us, told us to stick out our tongues, tapped our knees, gave our parents a prescription, and we hit the road. Candy from a baby.

We got older and the thumping increased, WE got the prescription, and we learned what a co-pay was. Us having to pay the bill was the beginning of “invasive” treatments.

Yet even as recently as the past few years, a check of the oil there in the examining room was about as personal as either I or my doctor was willing to or cared to get.

Those salad days are gone.

As you get older, the checkups become a bit more invasive. I am a rookie but my understanding is that the colonoscopy is about as invasive and as probing as you can get without a flashlight and an atlas.

I have questioned several other guys on my team who are slightly older and have been driven down this rocky road and to a man, each of them has given me the same one-word review. They said, “Ouch.”

Come the invasive Game Day, I might become evasive. “Gimme an E, gimme a V, gimme a…”

Gimme a pill. That’s what I’ll need. I’m told that you’re knocked out for the actual procedure, that the pregame is the real test. “Getting the field ready,” so to speak.

We’ll bring you Colonoscopy Rookies that game preview tomorrow or the next day. In the meantime, I know, I know … everyone wants you to take Belmont in the first round. It’s a nice story but … don’t.

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