It doesn't rain it pours

I said a while back that I was looking forward to my follow-up appointment with the speech therapist. Well, the day duly arrived and I headed off feeling relaxed that this wasn't going to be a problem. The first meeting had gone swimmingly, the therapist was extremely pleasant and she had laughed at my jokes. What more could I reasonably ask for? And there was no reason to expect things to be different this time.

Oh, how wrong I was. It started innocently enough, I was asked to read some lines in my normal voice and she would measure the dB rating. Not realising a trap was being laid I obliged willingly.

"Ah Mr Smith, your reading is lower than the average for a man of your age, but nothing too remarkable. Normal conversation typically sits at 60 dB, your voice was around 55 dB. Nothing to be concerned about"

Good, just what I wanted to hear. I relaxed further. What I didn't realise was I was being played by an expert. A trap was being laid.

"There isn't any real need for further investigation"

Good, that was settled then. I nodded my agreement.

"I suppose.......... no, no, you probably wouldn't be interested"

What wouldn't I be interested in?

"No, I fully understand if you think that you don't feel up for it"

What wouldn't I feel up for? I bristled, why would she think I wasn't up for it? My ego was bruised.

Looking back I have to admire the way she landed me into agreeing to what she was about to propose. She was an expert and I have decided to keep my wife well away from her. She doesn't need the lessons.

"Weeell, now don't feel you have to, but it might be of some benefit to having a closer look at your nasal passages by putting a camera down through your nose"

Hook, line and sinker.................... I was trapped. 

I wasn't particularly keen on that idea.

"What!" I whispered, the dB rating was probably down at about 5 by now.

"Down my nose...................... that doesn't sound too pleasant" I managed to get my voice up to 8 or 9 dB. "Is it necessary?

"Oh don't worry about it, clearly you don't feel comfortable with it"

You've got to applaud her skill. What a professional.

"No, no, I might be up for it, I was just wondering what the benefits were?" back to 5dB and my pitch had got higher.

"Well to answer your question fully, yes it is a bit unpleasant I have to admit. But I've had it done to me oodles of time"

She couldn't have been more blatant if she had added: "little old me, a mere woman". I was trapped. 

She explained that having a good look would enable them to eliminate other, more dangerous causes, but in truth, she didn't need to waste her energy. I was going to say yes and she knew it.

"Yes," 2 dB.

"What was that I didn't quite hear?"

"YES" 10 dB

"Oh great, I'll make the arrangements and contact you with the date as soon as I have it." she practically cackled in triumph. So trapped by a skilled operator and my male ego, and with the air of a man sentenced to death by George Jeffries, I said my goodbye and left to tell the wife the outcome. 

So with my upcoming ordeal to look forward to, you'd think in a just world, things couldn't get worse.

Well, you would be wrong.

Let me start by saying I don't have cancer and here's how I know

I am not a particularly, physically brave man. I don't do pain. I will do almost anything to avoid it, but sometimes pain comes looking for you. That's what happened to me. Suddenly and out of the blue having a pee became a nightmare, it was like passing acid. I had picked up a urinary infection. 

I remember being told after my Father died of bladder cancer, that one of the early symptoms that concerned his GP, was his getting a urinary infection. Or two.

So let me tell you, there was no sticking my head in the sand. I was on the phone to the surgery, before the flush had finished, begging for an appointment. The receptionist was sympathetic but advised there were no Doctors available as they were already fully booked.

For, what was a truly frightful moment, I thought she was going to say that the earliest appointment I could get was two weeks away.

However, what she could do was get a Doctor to phone me later on in the afternoon and we could have a telephone consultation. 

Although it meant that any treatment was only going to start late on in the day, There and then I agreed.

Now with these types of consultations, you don't know which of the surgeries Doctors will be the ones to phone. We have 7 Doctors in our surgery, one of whom, a nice enough woman, is a friend of the wife.

And yep, you guessed it the wife's friend phoned mid-afternoon and asked me what were my symptoms. Now I know we are all grown-ups and really I shouldn't have a problem with it, but telling my wife's friend about my problems was embarrassing. And I have to say, she didn't sound to comfortable either.

She prescribed antibiotics for the infection and asked me to come in and give a urine sample, so they could identify the reason for the problem. The prescription would be ready for me to pick up at the same time.

Well, peeing wasn't getting any easier, so whilst the idea of having to leave a sample didn't appeal, I sped off to the surgery and did the necessary, picked up the prescription and was walking into the Chemist within the hour. The antibiotics worked a treat, and by the next morning, all the pain had gone.

I may of said this before, but we don't appreciate the absence of pain enough. There should be a national pain day, it would put things in a better context.

Anyway, the results came back, and yes there was blood in my urine. So after getting advice from her Doctor friends and obtaining permission from the insurers, the wife and myself went to see the consultant.

We walked in, and as soon as the brief pleasantries were completed, he told me to get ready for a prostate check. I won't go into details. But I do wonder why you would want a career that involves sticking your thumb up elderly male bums on a regular basis. 

It's a strange old world.

Following scans, tests, exploratory operations and the supply of various samples, I made my way back to receive the news.

Now, this isn't the first time I've had troubling symptoms, been investigated and had to walk the green mile to find out what my immediate future was going to be like and I'm embarrassed to say, that my body behaves very badly, in short, I come very close to fainting, and I am hit with an intense wave of nausea as the Doctor is telling me the results. Not very manly!

This time was the same, but happily, for me, the wife on the other hand may have been in two minds, the urologist was able to tell me that I didn't have cancer. Or more accurately, that as far as they could tell, I didn't have either bladder or renal cancer. There was however a small area that they had fully tested which they thought they had better keep an eye on and would advise regular checks by giving me a scan.

Oh well, at least the news was good if a bit ambiguous and what was being proposed involved a scan and not another finger up the bum, so all in all it could have been worse. 

So I should be pleased? And I am, but why, why the pain, the indignity and the humiliation?

Isn't having Parkinson's enough?

This is of course a stupid question, life doesn't work out like that. There are a lot of people worse off than me. Sadly.