Peculiar
Friday morning — I was chatting with this matronly woman about how the weekend always seems to include the two shortest days of the week; how time is something that’s much more about perception than distance. And no, I didn’t have any particular plans, except that I was heading over to Edinburgh to see my mother, and she said that was a good thing.
What’s peculiar about that, you might ask?
Well, I’ve missed out some of the details: specifically that, at the time we were having this conversation, I was lying on a bed — staring at the wall, with my knees up to my stomach — while she stuck her finger up my arse, trying to feel my prostate. And then, when she expressed difficulty putting her finger on it, asked in one of her colleagues. So, a woman I hadn’t known for at least 15 minutes came in, introduced herself, put on a plastic glove and stuck her finger up my arse. There’s nothing quite like getting a second opinion.
Still, not having an enlarged prostate was another sign that I’m probably OK in that department, although I won’t know for about a week about the results of the blood — and they’ve called me in for another check up in three months time.
Healthwise, though; I’m much happier now than I was a week ago.
Leave a Comment