Yesterday was a day I will not remember with any degree of pleasure, and yet, it started so well… It was the day I was going to get the waterworks of my anatomy, the inside of my bladder, examined, in order to come up with a solution to a urine infection. I was reasonably joyful, as having an infection of that sort, for a year, is not a pleasurable experience, unless you’re into that sort of thing of course…The doctor assured me that the procedure would be reasonably painless, as my penile appendage would be filled with anaesthetic before a camera would be gently placed down the aforesaid member to reach my bladder. I trust doctors, having recently undergone a procedure, which on the face of it, would appear to be an horrific process. In reality, the injection into my eye was painless as the doctor had said, so I was relaxed about the upcoming operation on my nether region.
On reaching the hospital I had to sign that I wanted this intrusion into my body, the doctor and nurse smiling at me as I signed, murmuring, “you will feel so much better”. So, on with the operation. They told me I could keep my socks and T-shirt on and was told to lie on the bed. The surgical cloths being tastefully placed around my appendage, the nurse remarking cheerfully, as she arranged my member, that the antiseptic might feel “a little cold”, before throwing some sort of cryogenic liquid on said willy, the wee fellow taking refuge inside my body.
The doctor smiled cheerfully, “Now I’m going to put some anaesthetic gel inside your penis before I put the camera down!” He then reached for a football corner flag and slammed it inside the said appendage. The resultant howl being heard several miles away, as it registered five on the Richter Scale at a nearby earthquake centre… Lesser readings being registered on the Richter meter as the doctor manoeuvred the camera inside my body.
As I sat there, traumatised, after requesting a pad to soak up the blood from the procedure, the doctor told me I’d be called again in a fortnight’s time. I feebly conveyed that hell would freeze over before I had that done to my shattered body again…So home… now the toilet has become a torturers dungeon, the passing of water being like trying to pass broken bottles through the eye of a needle. Hilda, who has been a star throughout, assured me the leaflet said, “the discomfort will pass in a couple of days”.
So, I sit and wince as I write, terrified, that my body will command me to go to the toilet again…
Kenneth J. Matthews 