The Mother of All Prostate Exams
"Drop your pants and bend over." Every middle aged man dreads hearing those inevitable words from good ol' Dr. Finger, but we know it's part of growing older. While I hope it's no more of a pleasure for Dr. Finger than it is for the patient, there is only one convenient portal that allows him in the proximity of our little friend the prostate gland. How unfortunate.
I had the pleasure of visiting a urologist recently. For those of you that don't know, urologist are regular doctors except they have extended study under a guy like Mr. Miyagi (Wax on, wax off. Glove on, pants off. And a highly lubricated version of the Crane Kick). Anyway we were discussing my prostate,which generally doesn't come up in everyday conversation, and we agreed that mine was problematic. He said that I might have prostatitus and in order to determine if that were the case he would need to get a specimen. Okay, I'm not dumb. I know that considering where the prostate is located getting something out is going to require a rather long needle or some slight of hand we've never seen David Copperfield perform in public. But I took the bait and asked, "How ya gonna do that?"
A couple of minutes later, as I lie on the table, pants down, knees drawn up to my chest, on my left side, I pondered the statement he had just made..."I'm going to milk your prostate". In the background I heard the snap of a rubber glove and within seconds the cold wetness of surgical lube blatantly announced the arrival of the digits. I have no idea if it was one or five because immediately upon entrance it or they zeroed in on the area where the prostate would be located just on the other side of the "wall". At that point he just grabbed it and squeezed. From the prostate's point of view it's similar to being in a sleeping bag inside a tent when a grizzly bear attacks. From my point of view I would have preferred a long, large bore needle. He could have even rubbed it on his shoe first.
A few seconds later he handed me a slide and said, "All I need is one drop." Honestly, I was so close to passing out I had no idea what he was talking about, it was the most excruciating pain I can remember. If I could have talked I would have asked him why the Hell he didn't just get it himself while he had the damn thing out! He explained where I would find the drop and, as I gathered my senses, I was surprised to see he was right. I was also surprised to see that it wasn't a drop of blood. I'll spare the details.
Now, what did I learn from this experience? 1) I learned that my prostate will only be milked once in its lifetime. 2) I learned that if I'm in a fight I know a maneuver that can drop a man like a wet sack of flour. Of course I have no idea how to get him into the proper position to begin with and I would have to kill any witnesses. 3) I learned that I don't have prostatitus.
So, if you're ever facing the choice of going three rounds in the Ultimate Fight Club or having your prostate milked...take the three rounds.
I had the pleasure of visiting a urologist recently. For those of you that don't know, urologist are regular doctors except they have extended study under a guy like Mr. Miyagi (Wax on, wax off. Glove on, pants off. And a highly lubricated version of the Crane Kick). Anyway we were discussing my prostate,which generally doesn't come up in everyday conversation, and we agreed that mine was problematic. He said that I might have prostatitus and in order to determine if that were the case he would need to get a specimen. Okay, I'm not dumb. I know that considering where the prostate is located getting something out is going to require a rather long needle or some slight of hand we've never seen David Copperfield perform in public. But I took the bait and asked, "How ya gonna do that?"
A couple of minutes later, as I lie on the table, pants down, knees drawn up to my chest, on my left side, I pondered the statement he had just made..."I'm going to milk your prostate". In the background I heard the snap of a rubber glove and within seconds the cold wetness of surgical lube blatantly announced the arrival of the digits. I have no idea if it was one or five because immediately upon entrance it or they zeroed in on the area where the prostate would be located just on the other side of the "wall". At that point he just grabbed it and squeezed. From the prostate's point of view it's similar to being in a sleeping bag inside a tent when a grizzly bear attacks. From my point of view I would have preferred a long, large bore needle. He could have even rubbed it on his shoe first.
A few seconds later he handed me a slide and said, "All I need is one drop." Honestly, I was so close to passing out I had no idea what he was talking about, it was the most excruciating pain I can remember. If I could have talked I would have asked him why the Hell he didn't just get it himself while he had the damn thing out! He explained where I would find the drop and, as I gathered my senses, I was surprised to see he was right. I was also surprised to see that it wasn't a drop of blood. I'll spare the details.
Now, what did I learn from this experience? 1) I learned that my prostate will only be milked once in its lifetime. 2) I learned that if I'm in a fight I know a maneuver that can drop a man like a wet sack of flour. Of course I have no idea how to get him into the proper position to begin with and I would have to kill any witnesses. 3) I learned that I don't have prostatitus.
So, if you're ever facing the choice of going three rounds in the Ultimate Fight Club or having your prostate milked...take the three rounds.
Do you remember the contraption you made for the cat several years ago? It was of PVC pipe and had many twists and turns to form a gun-like shape, with a trigger that released a feather from the end of the barrel. We called it "Mr. Thingy." For some reason, this is what comes to mind........
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The "Worm-O-Wand " . The Ultimate funtime wormer! By Capt. Sid's. I remember it quite well. I could have also used a couple of good doses of Capt. Sid's "Stool Normalizer" recently. You know, "It's like spending a day on a shrimp boat!"
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