The "Pear" - my experience with a Prostate biopsy

The Pear - The Medieval Torture Museum 

Excerpt:

This instrument was forced into the mouth or rectum of male victims and into the vagina of female victims. The oral, rectal, or vaginal pear was inflicted on people guilty of sodomy, on women guilty of adultery, people guilty of incest or sexual union with Satan, and it was also inflicted on heretical preachers and blasphemers.

Comment: This post is an exaggerated and hopefully somewhat humorous account.

Today was the dreaded day and thankfully I am now home! Herein is a PSA (Public Service Announcement): If one's PSA is high, this adventure awaits.

As an aside I inquired of a brother and a brother-in-law about their PSA counts. Neither knew. Perhaps they are better off!

Today I am sorry I even have a prostate. I have always gotten the prostate and the pituitary glands confused. Explained: One is near the brain and the other near a man's other brain.

Back when I was a boy and had to have the pre-camp physical, it the DRE was an annual event near the 4th of July. The "R" stands for one's backside and the "D" stands for the finger ... someone else's finger (not that I would want to put my own finger there!). For years I have not experienced the DRE (nor the other "turn your head and cough" experience.)

Then for years it seemed that no Doctor wished to so probe me - not that I blame them!

Now that I am retired and have a lot of time on my hands, I have old man problems. So my PSA was high and I had the DRE. The DRE is like 3rd base but without the snuggles.

Back to why one even has a prostate: Now that I have progeny and have ceased adding to the population, I don't need it any more. It functions like bullets for the gun. And I don't need bullets anymore.

But it's there: there to haunt one in the night ... wake up time to "pee"! (4 times a night sometimes). It's kind of like karma ... you've had your fun, now is my time to torture you!

The DRE leads to the probe. And the probe is like the pear. Prep for the probe requires something called an enema. This too has it's own probe. Tip ... remove the orange cap or it will get lost up there.

The enema is of the "Fleet" brand - but not from Fleet Farm (a favorite store of mine!). The box has a yellow banner announcing "now 70% more volume". I'm thinking "why?!"

Some may wonder how the enema compares and contrasts with the colon cleanse required for a colonoscopy: Well while both pertain to the same orifice, one is to be drunk and the other inserted. I'm good with the colon cleanse as I've discovered that if mixed with vodka the prep makes for one fun night!

The enema perhaps could be better tolerated with vodka shots too!  I'm not sure why but my wife said I was on my own with this!

At the Dr's office - and just to digress a bit ... why would someone choose this career field? I mean be a wealth advisor or something!

I'm in the exam room with a lovely nurse in a pink outfit with matching pink shoes. She asks me to disrobe and I think I must have died and gone to Muslim paradise.

I'm now reclined and blushingly naked. The gorgeous nurse is alone in the room with me. But then from behind a curtain the torturer emerges and the lovely nurse exits. I am trapped!

There's a company in my town called Lube-Tech. I hypothesize that they are suppliers for this medical office. With enough lube a Mac truck can be squeezed into a compact car parking spot.

A sonogram explores the depths of my innards. I saw a image of this later and it looks like the Roman catacombs, or a rat filled abandoned irrigation tunnel under ancient Istanbul. I expect this image be included in the next edition of National Geographic Rarely Seen: Photographs of the Extraordinary.

The sonogram is a prelude the main event: 12 cores into my prostate. Each core is fired into my prostate with a crack that I would liken to the discharge of a 22 long rifle.

I grip the table and confess sins! I may now be a Buddhist or a Muslim!

The inquisitor leaves and I am alone in my shame. I've been violated! I am no longer a virgin (reminder of the comment above!)

Afterwards the lovely nurse appears: a bottle of water and a wet washcloth is proffered. I'm thinking - a shot of whiskey seems more appropriate!

On a scale of 1 to 10 (the not fun at all to very fun scale), this event was a "1". I've had shots in my facet joints. I would rate that as a "5". And I've had the colonoscopy ... a "10" (but use the vodka advice above).