I just assumed that there would be at the very least a “turn-your-head-and-cough” moment.
You know, just like in my glory days of high school…
Previously on NSSMOTDF, Act 3: Following In His Footsteps…
“I can’t poop…and I think I’m ----- dying over here.”
Man Most Assuredly dying from Colon Cancer. Or A maybe from A grapefruit-sized Prostate. Or Most Definitely an over-active imagination
Act IV: We Both Know Why I’m Here
Admittedly, I got a little distracted in Act III trying to figure out how to convey to my Dear Readers that I was convinced that I might have a fatal flaw with my plumbing. And it was quite the emotional trip.
It wasn’t so much that my life was flashing before my eyes, as it was a serious conversation with myself. What if I really had prostate cancer or worse? What if I was destined to die before I turned 40? What will I be leaving behind? Will the world have been a better place at all because I was in it? What about my wife and kids?
You get the idea. It’s not a fun exercise, especially when you’re not sure it’s just drill or if it might be the real deal.
Finally I worked up the courage to face the music and scheduled an annual physical at the local urgent care clinic. Annual might be a slightly inaccurate term, though, as I was pretty sure my last physical was so I could be cleared to play football in high school. It would be fair to say that I was a bit overdue for one anyways.
I was a new patient at this place, so I had no rapport with the Doc, a guy on the younger side and close to my age. With things like these, it’s hard to be sure if this is the ideal scenario…or the most awkward one.
Anyways, we go through the routine, you know–blood pressure, blood work, height, weight, yadda yadda ya, and I’m starting to realize that I don’t actually know what all goes into one of these exams. Like, I just assumed that there would be at the very least a “turn-your-head-and-cough” moment, much like in the glory days of high school.
But as we wrapped up all the items on the Doc’s checklist, it occurred to me that maybe I still wasn’t old enough for a complimentary prostate exam. After all, that was the only way we were going to truly get any answers that day.
I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to take advantage of the “Do you have any other concerns?” part of the visit to explicitly discuss my butthole-related concerns.
And so it went. What a conversation to try to have with a straight face! Especially with another man about your age, when you know well and good that the whole time you’re both indubitably trying to repress you inner junior high school boy.
He managed to maintain an air of professionalism as he listened to me lay out my concerns with equal maturity, including the various hypotheses/self-diagnoses that I had come up with.
After I finished sharing my thoughts, he spoke to me with a gravitas that I had previously believed was strictly reserved for telling someone their love one had passed.
“I think we have no other choice. I’ll need to exam your prostate via your rectum.”
Fortunately, this wasn’t my first rodeo. With my pants already halfway down my ankles, I nodded in solemn agreement.
“I came today fully emotionally prepared to have a stranger’s finger probe my anus. I am ready.”1On occasion, I will take small poetic liberties in my story-telling. This is not one of them. Yes, I really did say this out loud to my doctor.
I could almost hear the pensive look on the Doc’s face as he carefully and gently checked me out. “Mmm-hmmm…good, good…yes…I see…well, that’s interesting…what do we have here…JUST KIDDING.”
As he wrapped it up and disposed of his glove, he shared his professional diagnosis: I had a clean butt of health: “Well, everything feels pretty much in shape down there. Perfectly-sized prostate, no colon cancer or other types of tumors, etc. You should be relieved.”
“Okay, then, what the heck do you think is going on? Something isn’t quite functioning right!”
Screw “relieved.” I came here for an explanation, and wasn’t leaving until I had one.
As any good doctor would, he started asking probing–no pun intended–follow-up questions. Particularly, “Has there been any major changes in your diet or daily routine recently?”
Well, as you may know, in fact, yes, I had been doing things differently lately. I had successfully been on my “Half-Ass Keto (TM)” diet for almost 6 months at this point, which was really just a low-carb diet.
Which really was just a high-cheese diet…lightly supplemented with meat, spinach, and kimchi.
You should have seen me try to argue that I ate “plenty of vegetables” and then when pressed for details, realize that a salad a day and 2 servings of Korean pickled cabbage a week really does make for one funked-up Food Pyramid.2What does the USDA know anyways? We all know now that the Food Pyramid is unintentionally(?) racist.
I could tell by the look on the Doc’s face, all the pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together.
“Dammit, son, you just need some fiber in your life.”
He continued, “Also: you’re body needs water. So drink that shiiiiiit.”3This has been a long running family meme between me and the Boss Lady, with some history behind it. For now, you can view the source here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qBlsqQAHJyY.
So, no, I was not relieved. I was ----- disappointed.
Here I thought I was dying, but, as would be par for the course, I was just full of shit…
Good god…is my life really nothing more than an overly-complicated series of semi-related stories that culminate in an underwhelming middle school punchline?
The End
Content created on: 30 September & 1 October 2020 (Wed/Thurs)
Footnotes & References:
Leave a Reply