Sanitized smells. Pharmaceutical jargon scratched upon prescription post-its. Behind a door, the resounding cries of a tortured child. An overwhelming sense of virginal white. White gowns, cotton balls, white walls, white floors, white paper on examining table. White men with white papers on white clipboards with white pens dangling flaccidly beneath white lights. White representing purity, which in present circumstance, is pretty much a clown’s makeup.
Really simple and quick, they said. As the doctor gloves-up and lubricates his fingers, just drop your drawers and hum something comfortable. The prostate is actually behind the colon wall, which means the feeling is something like searching for loose change in ones pockets and finding out the lining has been folded over. Only in this case, you are the pocket. You might feel the need to urinate, they said, and if urinate is a synonym for bawl and shriek in abject horror, I concur. In these moments, many things pass through ones mind – the invention of the computer, man’s journey to the moon, Hitler’s breach of Poland – and the disbelief that no man has invented another way to do this.
Annual procedure my ass….ironic, eh? No, I don’t expect dinner, or wine, or even the suggestion of a post-exam kiss. But I know what bedside manner means. I know at least four synonyms for the word gentle. All I’m asking is a little sympathy and courtesy for those of us who always thought one-way streets were everlasting. Oh yea, and to hell with a second opinion.