We have a saying here in England, ‘An ounce of prevention, is worth a pound of cure.’
With this in mind, I felt at my age, it was time to get to my doctor’s and have a prostate exam.
I had been putting this off for ages and ignoring constant advice from my significant other.
‘Go get it checked…it’s important that you do. You are at that age.’
I have always been at ‘that age’.
I have also been that person who, at any age, does not relish a stranger’s finger or two up my back passage…even professionally.
Still, needs must.
Therefore, with my early Monday morning appointment made, I brace myself for what is to come.
I decide that a shower is in order along with scented shower gel. On reflection I think why, after all it’s not a date…just a date with the fickle finger of fate.
I wear something casual and off I trot into the known unknown.
My name comes up on the screen at the surgery and in I go. The GP is actually a nice guy and a warm friendly smile greets me.
‘So what can I do for you.’ he asks… I tell him that I am getting up two to three times a night to pee and feel that I should have a prostate exam to settle my mind. He agrees and starts to make a few notes… I get up and start to undress explaining that I have been doing stretches so I can comfortably touch my toes and make life easier for him. Why him, it’s me that is going to be impaled on the fingers of his right hand.
He looks up from his screen in disbelief. ‘What are you doing he asks?’
‘I am getting ready for my close-up.’ I reply.
‘Please get dressed,’ he says.
‘But, aren’t you going to examine me?’
He looks puzzled…I look puzzled.
‘No, I am going to send you for blood tests…this is what we do now.’
I stand staring at him. ‘But I showered, put on clean underwear. I even shaved, (why the hell did I say that)’ I protest.
He explains that they don’t do it that way anymore…
I had psyched my self up for what was going to be a big deal for me…and now feel my ‘date’ stood me up.
I had to take something from this.
I fire one more shot. ‘Can we at least go for a drink,’ I ask.
He ignores my question and hands me the blood test request to take to the hospital. He smiles warmly and tells me he does not drink.
I feel I have just found a pay packet with cash in but am upset by the amount of tax that was paid.
Ah well.
Ten days later, I get the thumbs up but that’s another story!!!
