It Won't Hurt a Bit

After my uncle's heart attack and my visits to the bathroom taking longer because of an ever thinning pee stream, I decided that it was time for a complete physical. My visit to the doctor didn't come without some prodding from him, and when I finally did go, it resulted in much prodding, and probing from him. First there were the preliminaries, blood pressure, pulse, knee reflexes, etc. It was when he got further into it that I became ill at ease. "Please pull down your pants, and lay on your side". I could hear the sound of rubber gloves and the gloop of lubricant coming out of a tube behind me, at which point my sphincter clenched up tighter than a gnats ass. "Please relax, you'll feel a little pressure." With a muffled scream from me, and an extra push from the doctor, my prostate was examined. The next thing on the agenda was the turn your head and cough routine. While most men like it when that part of their body is touched, for some reason it just isn't the same when it's a man in a white smock with rubber gloves doing it, unless of course you're real kinky.

Further on into the physical, came the EKG, which the doctor said was perfect, and then the nurse took my blood. After going through chemo-therapy, you'd think I would be used to needles, but no, I hate them. The nurse took at least a quart of blood while I looked all around, and everywhere, except at that syringe full of blood, for I am sure if I had looked, I would have swooned and passed out. I can look at other peoples blood just fine, it's only when it's my own do I get queasy.

It was a year ago that I got my first and last colonoscopy. When my doctor asked if I had ever had one, I replied "Yes, a year ago, and I still haven't fully recovered." For some reason my doctor found this funny. It was the first time I had ever seen him smile in the last seventeen years. "Ah ha!", I thought, so he really did enjoy that prostate exam.