My Yearly Physical

    I had my yearly physical yesterday. I arrived at my doctor's office unusually early only to find out she and the office staff were off on what I presumed was their lunch break (as it was lunch time!) So I had about ten minutes to kill and this gave me ten more minutes to deal with the usual trepidation I have around yearly physicals.
   Now, the only real reason I have for any amount of anxiety over physicals revolves around the old prostate (I suspect several things revolve around my prostate--my anxiety is only one of them...) and my doctor's wish to thoroughly examine it. On a yearly basis he simply refuses to acknowledge my own belief that my prostate's just fine (thank you) and insists on investigating it.
   Okay, I'm pretty sure he could just take a damn x-ray or ultrasound--seems routine procedure for investigating internal organs these days but NO--he actually wants to feel it! Because of this crazy desire of his, my doctor and my ass have been dating for several years now, ever since my mid-forties or so. Their relationship has lasted longer than many marriages, even given the fact that there's a bit of a menage a trois going on--my doctor, my ass and me. The relationship did start off on a bit of a tense note; my ass and I have been together, well, forever and introducing someone else into the mix was tricky, to say the least. But, between the three of us (and some calming words mixed with a dollop of lube) there arrived that point in a relationship where a nice little comfort level had been attained. 

   What added to the trepidation on this visit, however, was the fact that it was not my regular doctor who was going to be administering the physical! My regular doctor is a man, and I've been seeing him for about 25 years now. Quite recently, though, he has had his daughter assisting with his practice. When I called to set up this appointment I was told that I could get in much sooner if I was willing to have his daughter see me. Now, his daughter I assume is probably 25 or so. She, however, looks like she might be 15. My instinct cried out to go for the later appointment but I have dealt with this young lady before and found her to be quite knowledgeable and pretty up-to-date on the latest in the medical world. There was also this feeling that one of these days she was likely going to be my regular family doctor and so why not just jump in now?!

   With this, though, came the realisation that she would also be jumping in and beginning her own likely long-term relationship with my prostate. I have never (in at least a fully conscious state!) been examined by a female medical staff down there. Anywhere down there. From the belly up and the thigh down all sorts of women have had a go at me but that broad expanse in between has been virtually sacrosanct. This, however, was about to change.
   And it was going to change even more than I had imagined!
   After I'd been sitting in the waiting room for about five minutes reading children's books (the adult's books were across the room and if I was in good enough shape to stand and walk then I didn't really need to be seeing a doctor, did I? and, anyway, I was hoping to learn something...) a young lady appeared, with a file, and called my name. She introduced herself and said she was interning with my family doctor. What she wanted to do, prior to my exam, was sit down and ask me some questions. I have been in many similar situations where an intern trying to get his or her feet wet would sit down with a patient and do some interviewing before the REAL doctor got there. I assumed this was what was happening in this case, as well.
   Wrong.
   After going through her questions and asking me what my present concerns were, she asked me to partially disrobe and get up on the exam table.
   At this point, I started to get a little concerned--if I had to be examined by a lady doctor I wanted it to be the lady doctor I was already afraid of! 

   So I did as I was asked, and waited. She returned shortly and, sure enough, began to do my physical. She seemed somewhat tentative and nervous and appeared to want me covered up even more than I wanted me covered up. The basics of the exam went just fine, everything checked out quite okay. The last part of the exam, however, involved her introducing herself to my prostate. The last thing I remember seeing before turning myself toward the wall was a glob of lubricating fluid about the size of a cow patty. Generally when you are meeting someone for the first time, you offer your hand. This is how she proceeded with my prostate. The initial meeting over and done with, it then felt as though she had decided that, as long as she was in there anyway, she might just as well introduce herself to every other organ or anatomical structure within reach up to and including my lower esophagus!
   Finally, this part of the exam was over. Regaining eye contact after something like that was something that appeared I'd had more practice with than her. At long last, though, I was back to fully dressed and we could both just sit there and talk, as if nothing untoward had recently transpired between the two of us. My recent bloodwork had all been normal (I suspect, for a man my age) and we talked briefly about any nagging little concerns I might have had about this and that. Toward the end of it all (pun?) she handed me the envelope containing the fecal occult blood testing paraphernalia. This is what you use when....oh, what the hell, you don't wanna know. I told her I would be happy to add it to the pile of unused test kits I'd accumulated over the years for which I did receive some gentle admonishment on her part. She did ask me, a little bit too eagerly, if I'd ever been "scoped" up in those parts. I replied in the negative. She seemed almost ready to book me a scope appointment but then, I'm sure, remembered that it wouldn't be her doing it, so why bother...?