Rectal Exam
On Tuesday I found blood in my toilet. It was pretty gross. I'm one of those guys that always looks in the toilet after going, I guess to admire my work and see if I made anything worth taking a picture of. Tuesday I was greeted with a bright red streak that ran along each log, plus some floaty blood in the water. Pretty gross. That was my morning. When the blood reoccurred during my afternoon restroom visit, I called my mommy. "You been sticking stuff up there again?" she asked. "No Mom...I haven't"
Mommy advised me to call the doctor. So I called the doctor. He asked if there were "copious" amounts of blood in my specimen. He defined "copious" to be "more than a cupful." When I responded negative, he said it was not a big deal ("perhaps just an internal hemorrhoid") and told me to come in for a rectal exam on Thursday and to not worry, most likely it wasn't prostate cancer or anything serious. Since I'm young and in good health, and there wasn't copious amounts of blood, it probably wasn't colon cancer he told me on the phone. But he wanted to check out my underworld, just to see what he could see.
I'll call him "Dr. Scratch" to protect his anonymity and because afterwards I told him he needed to trim his nails. I wouldn't want my friends to know if I stuck my finger up his rear, so I'll afford him equal courtesy.
The nurse took my blood pressure and temperature, and pronounced me fine. After she left, Dr. Scratch came in and had me re-describe my problem to him. He listened, repeated his prediction that it wasn't anything major, and told me to drop 'em.
So I stood pantless in front of Dr. Scratch. Visions of bathhouse showers, San Franciso alleys and even Pee-Wee Herman ran through my head...as I stood there, vulnerable.
"Turn around," said Dr. S.
I turned around.
"Put your elbows on the counter."
I put my elbows on the counter.
Dr. K. opened up a drawer in the counter and took out a tube of K.Y. Jelly. He spread the K.Y. Jelly on his rubber glove clad fingers. And then before I could say "nice wheather we're having isn't it?" it happened..  Dr. S. was worming through me like a Roto-Router employee of the month. He quickly did his job looking for anything wrong. Then he pulled his finger out of me.
Dr. S. removed his rubber glove and pointed me in the direction of some tissues I could use to wipe up. I discovered I needed seven or eight return trips to completely wipe up my mess.
"I didn't find any hemorrhoids or any other masses," he said. "Your prostate feels fine, everything feels fine". "I don't think you have anything to worry about" Scratch informed me. "Just keep watching in case something else turns up". "I could send you to a specialist, but I don't think they'd find anything either".
And so my ordeal was over. It wasn't terrible -- not the most natural event, as one can imagine, but it wasn't painful. As I proceeded to pull up my pants, I asked my new friend if his technique was unusual or the norm. He said it sometimes helps men if he uses a little humor while the examination is taking place.
Scratch told me men around the age of 40 should have rectal and prostate exams yearly. I told Dr.Scratch I learned alot about prostate health from an enhancement exercise site run by a doctor.
I told him now that I had a rectal examination, I could be a sperm donor. "What are you talking about?" he said with a puzzled look...
I kinda left in a hurry...the bank closes at 5:00 p.m. Sam Fields
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