Day of the Field

We tend to imagine the worst and cause ourselves to suffer anticipating what we think might happen. But more often than not, things weren't as bad as we thought they'd be.

I had an appointment with a urologist today, a referral from my GP. I'm at an age when I was convinced he would recommend removing my prostate, and I was all set to tell him that was a line we weren't going to cross - if my prostate is what ultimately kills me, then so be it. I'm not going to live forever, but at least I'll know what my cause of death would be.

If he argued, I would demand a second opinion from a different urologist. I went in girded for battle.

As it turned out, surgery never came up in the conversation. I didn't even have to suffer the humiliation of a finger-up-the-butt prostate exam. We talked about my symptoms, reviewed my meds, and took some blood. The doctor took me off Flo-Max and put me on Cialis. Boner city, here we come!

I was in and out again in a half hour, and the ordeal was far, far less than I had imagined. There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so, as Hamlet said. All that worrying, all that anxiety for nothing. Of course, it will get worse and someday I'll even die, but for now it's all pissing anywhere I want to and pharmaceutically enhanced erections.