I'm a regular guy, originally from Hollis, Queens who moved out to Wayne NJ with my wife and two kids, living that suburban dream (the first time my son played in a little league game at night, when they turned on the lights, I swear I heard angels singing that operatic - ahhh! I'm 47 I try to stay in good shape, try to slow down the aging process, run 10-15 mi. a week, work out 2-3 times a week, but eventually, whether you believe in G-D, in a higher power, or if you subscribe to the theory that your body parts can only sustain so much wear and tear, you come to that inevitable intersection on the road of life - the prostate exam.
All I had to do was drop trow. i could leave my sneaks on for a quick getaway, plus there was a window at my feet (who cares if it's a two story drop). So I'm lying fetal, away from the action, 8" from the salmon speckled wall with a 1-ply paper towel separating my most vulnerable orifice from the rest of the world and I can't see anything! I can only hear drawers opening and closing, wheels squeaking as they carry apperatus and small sharp metal objects scrapping against each other. And I'm thinking, if any of these scraping sounds gets really loud and sounds like the Jaws of Death - I'm outta here!
The technician (Bella) was from Eastern Europe and she sounded like Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle so I had some Cold War suspicions and humor didn't translate to ease my fears. For instance when Bella told me she was taking pics of my prostate, I wondered if mine was good-looking, and what was the appropriate make-up? Clear gloss? With some foundation? Just like some people have good looking feet and ears...so she goes up periscope with the camera, and I'm wondering, how can anybody think this feels good?
After it's over and I'm able to get dressed, I gather my dignity and my pants (which is no easy feat as I now have the equivalent of a 2-ply paper towel corn cob in my butt to absorb any 'discharge', and as I walk out of the office I feel like I've been violated, a little ashamed, like one of those guys walking out of those old Times Square peep shows, and the staff feels the same way about me - they don't want to look me in the eye. That's why they take care of payment and your next visit as soon as you arrive - little did I know then why they were being proactive - but they knew - they knew.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment