Thursday
Then: Bee Stings
By my count, this is the second time in this book that I'm going back on promises I made to regular guy readers upfront. There I promised not to pile on you details about the devices paraded out to probe tender territories.
And once again, my excuse this time -- to talk about a biopsy of the prostate -- is to assure readers that in the end it's simply not as awful as the notion of it.
Your position on the table is pretty demeaning. On your side, knees drawn up fetal style, you stare at a tray of devices like Sir Laurence Oliver wielded in front of Dustin Hoffman in Marathon Man. The best way to describe the tools, and I was in shock so this may not be right, is that there is an ultrasound probe similar to that used on pregnant women but looking very ‘expansive’ when peering up at it sheepishly.
The there’s the ‘derrière derringer’.
Long slim and cylindrical, like a skinny mechanic’s grease gun, this nasty device had a particularly wicked looking bladed end. Tiny, less than one fourth inch in size, you could just tell the thing was ready to do damage. Now again, I still don’t know if this is what Dr. Utz did to me, because I didn’t ask and I haven’t brought myself to read an accurate description, but here goes. I think the well-lubricated ultrasound probe was the battering ram, giving the derringer on-screen blipping black and white targets to hit. Kind of like the views from the nose of the ‘bunker buster’ bombs used in Iraq as they silently screamed towards their targets.
Utz told me that I was definitely going to feel the shots from the device. He said they would feel like bee stings, and that I was going to get about a dozen of them.
Again, I don’t know, but in reflecting, I think Dr. Utz must have had the probe push against the colon wall to see the prostate and then was actually shooting the nasty little grabber through the colon to do its dirty work before retreating.
Again, this was probably an accurate description of what it felt like, but I was so dazed and amazed to be going through this that I don’t recall much pain.
But I do recall peering up at Utz when he finished and his grim face and words something like: “I don’t at all like what I saw in there. I need you to get a bone scan and other tests at the hospital tomorrow. And, just to prepare you. It likely could be bad news.” That was December 26th, following a Christmas Day and a few days prior where I had engaged in an uncomfortable charade to mask the unknown from the kids. But, I’m certain now they saw through the acting. ¶ 1:08 PM
And once again, my excuse this time -- to talk about a biopsy of the prostate -- is to assure readers that in the end it's simply not as awful as the notion of it.
Your position on the table is pretty demeaning. On your side, knees drawn up fetal style, you stare at a tray of devices like Sir Laurence Oliver wielded in front of Dustin Hoffman in Marathon Man. The best way to describe the tools, and I was in shock so this may not be right, is that there is an ultrasound probe similar to that used on pregnant women but looking very ‘expansive’ when peering up at it sheepishly.
The there’s the ‘derrière derringer’.
Long slim and cylindrical, like a skinny mechanic’s grease gun, this nasty device had a particularly wicked looking bladed end. Tiny, less than one fourth inch in size, you could just tell the thing was ready to do damage. Now again, I still don’t know if this is what Dr. Utz did to me, because I didn’t ask and I haven’t brought myself to read an accurate description, but here goes. I think the well-lubricated ultrasound probe was the battering ram, giving the derringer on-screen blipping black and white targets to hit. Kind of like the views from the nose of the ‘bunker buster’ bombs used in Iraq as they silently screamed towards their targets.
Utz told me that I was definitely going to feel the shots from the device. He said they would feel like bee stings, and that I was going to get about a dozen of them.
Again, I don’t know, but in reflecting, I think Dr. Utz must have had the probe push against the colon wall to see the prostate and then was actually shooting the nasty little grabber through the colon to do its dirty work before retreating.
Again, this was probably an accurate description of what it felt like, but I was so dazed and amazed to be going through this that I don’t recall much pain.
But I do recall peering up at Utz when he finished and his grim face and words something like: “I don’t at all like what I saw in there. I need you to get a bone scan and other tests at the hospital tomorrow. And, just to prepare you. It likely could be bad news.” That was December 26th, following a Christmas Day and a few days prior where I had engaged in an uncomfortable charade to mask the unknown from the kids. But, I’m certain now they saw through the acting. ¶ 1:08 PM
