I Mailed My Masterpiece: Bowel Cancer Screening

Let's face it, folks, poo isn't exactly the topic you bring up at a swanky dinner party. But hey, guess what arrived in my mailbox today? Yep, the NHS's dingleberry testing kit for the big B – bowel cancer.

I've been patiently waiting for the kit to arrive after receiving a (turtle) heads-up, just over a week ago, and now it's all systems go!

Now, I'm no stranger to a bit of self-deprecation, so I decided to embrace the, ahem, unique opportunity and document my bowel-screening escapade for your (hopefully) amusement and education. We're about to get down and dirty... in a metaphorical sense, of course.

The kit itself looked innocent enough – a cardboard box with a reassuringly clinical blue logo. Inside, however, lay the tools of the trade: a little plastic spatula that resembled a fancy ice cream scooper (minus the sprinkles, thank goodness), a vial that could've held a genie's wishes (if the genie had questionable hygiene), and instructions that, let's be honest, were probably more interesting than most IKEA manuals.

The mission, as outlined by the slightly-too-chipper diagram, was simple: snag a sample, scoop it neat, and seal it tight. But let's be real, plumbing the depths of one's porcelain palace isn't exactly a graceful ballet. There were moments of Olympic-level concentration, prayers to the porcelain gods for steady aim, and enough internal contortions to rival a doughnut factory.

And then, the moment of truth. Transferring the, ahem, sample to the vial was like conducting a delicate experiment with a particularly stubborn playdough. Let's just say I channeled my inner artist (emphasis on the "art" and less on the "ist"), and hoped my offering met the scientific criteria.

Finally, with a triumphant fist pump, I sealed the vial, packaged it up like a gift for a very specific (and hopefully very grateful) lab technician, and sent it off on its merry way.

Now, I'm not advocating for public poo-parades, but there's something liberating about acknowledging the less glamorous aspects of our existence. Plus, by sharing my, shall we say, "colourful" experience, I hope to encourage others to take this potentially life-saving test. After all, a little laughter and a bit of, ahem, sample-sharing can go a long way in breaking down taboos and raising awareness.

So, if you get your NHS bowel cancer screening kit, remember: it's about potentially saving your life. Embrace the weird, conquer the porcelain throne, and send your masterpiece off with pride! Just, uh, maybe skip the sprinkles. 

  • This blog post does not constitute medical advice. Please consult your doctor for any questions or concerns about bowel cancer screening.

Bowel Cancer Screening Kit


  1. Quite the post. Funny with a serious twist. Dingleberries. Haha!

  2. My test results have been returned this morning. I'm pleased that I can report that no further testing is needed at this time. I'll be invited for further screening as part of the national campaign, in 2 years time. Screening ends at age 75, although it can be done upon request.

    If you are invited for screening, please DO take part.


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