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| No.... That's Aretha |
When men grow old and certain
parts of them begin to wear out, doctor visits become their new social scene.
An unfortunate result of growing old, and at seventy four I now qualify, is
that a man's prostate gland begin to enlarge. When that happens urinating
becomes difficult, yet for some reason also becomes more frequent. After many
nights of getting up almost exactly every hour, on the hour to pee, I made an
appointment with an urologist. Not just because I have to pee so often, but
because when I try to pee, it's almost impossible to get the pee started. It's
in there. It wants to come out, but apparently my prostate hasn't got the
message and won't open the gates. (I'd
like to know where was that control when I was a kid and woke up most mornings
in a very moist bed.)
So that's what I did this
morning. I saw the doctor. It was not fun. You would think sitting on an exam
table for half an hour, alone, with no pants on, waiting for the doctor to come
in would be the worst of it. That was bad, but not as bad as when the doctor
shoved a camera up my pee hole. When I was told that was going to happen, all kind of fears flooded my mind. How big was this camera? I know how small my pee hole
is, and I was imagining a VHS Camcorder. Once the doctor convinced me that they
now make very tiny cameras, the procedure began.
"It'll feel kind of like you're urinating as we begin."
It did, except it felt like
the urine was going the wrong way and my angry urethra and prostate did not
like that. Oh, also the doctor did not find it funny when I told him that I'd
rather be getting a root canal than laying on the exam table with a camera up
my wiener while an audience of nurses watched. Which brings me to the only part
of this whole ordeal I found entertaining. The giant wide screen video that
allowed me to watch as we traveled through the tunnel, past the gates of the
prostate, and into the bladder. I got to see the inner me, and as the doctor
said, "It all looks good."
