Adventures in the Urologist's Office

Being a strict adherent to Murphy's laws, I peed blood the day before traveling overseas. Knowing full well that this was cancer until proven otherwise, I made an appointment for the day after my return--there was no way I was surrendering my trip.

Seated nervously in the waiting room, I found that the only available reading material was the current issue of Cosmopolitan. What strange reading material for a Urology office. The lead article was "50 Ways To Keep Your Man Happy in Bed." I began to imagine that I had entered a Fellini movie. At 61, I was, by far, the youngest patient there; I doubt if any of these men wanted to be reminded of their diminished or totally absent sex lives. Hello... this is a Urology office.

An attractive, young, blond nurse escorted me into an exam room. Even by Doctor's Office standards, this room was stark. No art, no pictures...nothing. Having a high familiarity with exam rooms, I decided to poke around to pass the time; I had left my issue of Cosmo in the waiting room. The first drawer that I opened had a stack of paper gowns with an old, beat up pair of Channel lock pliers sitting on top. What the hell do they use those for??? Well--obviously--for adjustments to your genitals. I decided to quit poking around.

The doctor came in and took a short history. He suggested an IVP and a cystoscopy for a workup. I agreed to the cysto and, if that were negative, to negotiate the need for the IVP xray exam. I readily agreed to do the cysto right away since I did NOT want to come back again.

The nice, young, blond nurse took me into the procedure room where she told me, unceremoniously, to drop my pants and lie down on the table. She stood with her back to me while I complied; the formality of undressing and putting on a gown was skipped. Just drop trou...at least, I wasn't asked to bend over. (I will cover colonoscopy in another blog.)

I almost fell asleep waiting for the procedure to begin. In came the Urologist and explained the procedure. It was to be a Fellini movie after all....I got to watch the whole thing on the tv monitor. He held my manhood in his left hand and injected some lubricant into my urethra with his right hand. Oh boy. This was quickly followed by the cystocope, a flexible tube with a lens on the end as well as ports to add water or suction water or take biopsies as necessary. I could not decide which was worse: following the scope up my urethra on the monitor or watching him push the scope up my penis. My bottom was quickly soaked with the overflow of water used to improve visability. Aha...there's the problem: he found a stricture in the urethra where I had had Radiation for my Prostate Cancer four years earlier. He said it was tight and he might not be able to break through and finish the examination.

He said it might hurt a bit and I encouraged him to go for it. I went, back and forth, from watching the monitor to watching him, manhood in left hand and scope in right hand, pushing back and forth to try to break open the obstruction. I could not help but envision a pile driver; but without the noise. The pain was as much psychic as physical. After a minute or so (which seemed like an hour), he popped through into the bladder and finished the exam. No cancer. No need for further workup.

In a flash, he was gone. Having had my cherry popped, I turned to the nurse, who probably assists on a half-dozen of these a day, and said: "Do you think I put out too much for a first date?" She cracked up.

I bled for a couple of days but was relieved to know I was free of serious pathology and, more importantly, was relieved to have this whole episode in my rear-view mirror. Many would complain that this episode reflects the new health care system; personally,I was quite pleased to have a serious problem dealt with quickly and efficiently. I would send my patients to this office with no reservations. It could have been worse; he might have pulled out the channel lock pliers.....