So at the end of last year I was waiting to have an MRI of my prostate to see if I had any cancer after having had a raised PSA level.
For a variety of reasons, all beyond my control, the MRI never happened...
So it was back to the clinic where after much crying and snuffling and snot and shouts and threats , the surgeon calmed down enough , finally came in off of the ledge when the hostage negotiator asked him, and agreed to do something called a template biopsy of my prostate.
Fast forward to two months later...
The day didn't start well...
...mid-morning , just as I was about to leave for the day surgery unit, a nurse phoned to say that my surgeon was involved with a complex emergency and may not be able to operate on me after all...
...eliciting a mix of relief and irritation in more or less equal parts.
But, she added, stay nil by mouth, just in case they could still operate.
Three hours later I found myself and my raggedy bare arse sitting on a cold metal stool in an even colder and depersonalised exam room.
My surgeon and anaesthetist bustled in, swapped files and started to go through the pre-op paperwork with me.
"How tired are you guys?"
I beg your pardon...?
"Well I was told you had a complex emergency case and that you might be too tired to operate later...
and yet here we are..."
No, I'm good...it wasn't as bad as we thought it was going to be...
(Hummh...wonder if that patient is thinking the same thought?)
"Okay then..."
Why...are you worried...?
"Well...truthfully...I don't want any tired knife-jockey or gas-monkey coming anywhere near me and my suspect prostate unless you're operating at 100%...I don't want a slip-up with a scalpel...my penis is already small enough!"
They laughed!
"Look...dokkie...its no good me pretending otherwise as you're about to see in 10 minutes...when God was building me, he clearly and I hope,-accidentally-, reached into the box labelled 'Penis-;Midgets, for the use of-;rejected, as being too small' ".
Oh how they laughed.
Dear reader, the surgery went fine.
Three weeks later I went back to get the results.
So...what we did was to take 30 biopsies from your prostate...
"What...?"
Yes....and they were each 25mm long...or one inch in old fashioned money...
I started to feel faint.
And 1mm wide...
Now I was gasping for air.
"Right...so basically you took out 30 inches of my prostate?!?"
Well...yes...when you put it like that it sounds a lot...
"We're talking about something the size of a walnut though?"
Yes...
Good grief...no wonder I had felt like I had been neutered!
Anyway...the result was not as good as I had hoped for, but at least I no longer have to worry about not having sufficient savings to augment my insufficient pension.
And they have agreed that I can have treatment for my testosterone deficiency.
One thing though...the first available appointment at that clinic is at the end of June!
So at the moment I am technically, hormonally , a lesbian....
...I already have the sensible shoes and bad haircut...
...but still no woman in my life!
But with a reamed-out prostate I feel more like a ladyboy!
*Sigh*
All offers considered....
...why am I pretending...
...all offers of sex gratefully accepted!!
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