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Oh, it's not that big of a deal, really. I'm just at that age where I have to get checked out every so often to make sure all my plumbing isn't going to pot is all.
Brief history - many, many moons ago, I used to get kidney stones. NOT FUN. Eventually, I hooked up with my wonderful urologist, who was able to provide me with this stuff called Poly Citra K, which made the stones go away. Since then, I see him once a year to get a cursory check-up to make sure there's no reappearance of stones, and to get my prostate checked to make sure The Big C isn't showing up.
Unfortunately, the exam he does in his office for my prostate is only so thorough. To really see everything, he has to go in the front with a small camera. I'm supposed to get this done every 5 years or so, and it's been 7 since the last time I did it. The procedure is easy: I'm given an anasthetic, I go sleepy, I wake up completely unaware the procedure is over. If all goes well, I get the clean bill of health and Jen drives me home.
The bad part is since they have to stick something up my schwanzschtucker that really shouldn't be there, it scrapes up the interior something fierce, making it sensitive. So, when I do a number one, it burns like the fires of Mount Doom. Percocets help offset this, but not by much. So any screaming you hear that weekend will most likely be me (picturing Bobby in Belfast pausing to hear me from half a world away, then quietly removing his cap to pay respects).
Brief history - many, many moons ago, I used to get kidney stones. NOT FUN. Eventually, I hooked up with my wonderful urologist, who was able to provide me with this stuff called Poly Citra K, which made the stones go away. Since then, I see him once a year to get a cursory check-up to make sure there's no reappearance of stones, and to get my prostate checked to make sure The Big C isn't showing up.
Unfortunately, the exam he does in his office for my prostate is only so thorough. To really see everything, he has to go in the front with a small camera. I'm supposed to get this done every 5 years or so, and it's been 7 since the last time I did it. The procedure is easy: I'm given an anasthetic, I go sleepy, I wake up completely unaware the procedure is over. If all goes well, I get the clean bill of health and Jen drives me home.
The bad part is since they have to stick something up my schwanzschtucker that really shouldn't be there, it scrapes up the interior something fierce, making it sensitive. So, when I do a number one, it burns like the fires of Mount Doom. Percocets help offset this, but not by much. So any screaming you hear that weekend will most likely be me (picturing Bobby in Belfast pausing to hear me from half a world away, then quietly removing his cap to pay respects).
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