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This true article was written by me July 15, 2006, a couple of days after my biopsy. It is mostly true, with some much needed humor when we go through a test like this. This is intended to urge men over fifty to get a regular prostate check. Some of my friends have shied away from this test, due to the embarrassment of the test. But several years ago, as a regular physical for my pilot's license, I began a yearly test. Usually your doctor will do the prostate exam and the blood test as a routine part of your yearly physical. Well one of my friends died of inoperable prostate cancer, because he did not find it soon enough. He died in the same VA hospital where I had my test this week. And also one of my best friends was diagnosed with cancer, and just a few weeks ago, he had surgery to remove his prostate. He told me this week, that everything looked good, and the doctor had seen no invasion into other parts of the body. So if you are a man, go "Get R Done", as cable guy says. If you are a lady, make your man go get checked out or forward this to anyone you think might need this advice.
It was no fun for me. They put the legs in the strirups like a baby delivery. Dropped the bottom half of the table from under me, then jacked me up like an oil change. "Job Site" hole, and everything else down there exposed to him and his pretty nurse Nancy.
I told Nancy we had to quit meeting like this. She said "Good Grief" Mr. Youngie. You sure look funny." Had the digital camera and asked the doc to take a few shots for me for my friends.
After he finished taking the free shots, the doctor pulled out his "plucker" It looked like one of my old tools, the "cotton pickin', finger lickin', chicken plucker". He then snapped it a couple of times. Sounded like a cheap version of a machine to make that clicker to light a torch for welding.
Said he was going to pluck me 8 times in different parts of the prostate. First finger went up to check to make sure it was still there. I moaned a little as he went on by the prostate and hit my tonsils.
Then he said "Here we go". Up went the finger again, with the probe and snatcher/clicker/needle beside. I heard a loud click and the short little doctor plucked his first plucker. He was a good little plucker, and other than the loud noise and a little pressure, I did not feel much.
Began the countdown to eight. Hey, this is goin' to be a breeze, I thought.
So pluck one, pluck two and pluck three. Round and round the P-tate we go and where we stop nobody knows.
Watched the blood pressure monitor which started at 131. After the first pluck it went up to 141. It would pump up automatically every few minutes.
Doc said, "Ready Mr. Youngie?" And pluck number four.
WOW, he got my tonsils with that one. Raised up on the stirrups, thanking God they had strapped me down for that one. Nancy giggled in the corner.
BP jumped to 148.
So off he goes around the P-tate. Here comes number Five.
A hoop and a holler later, BP jumping to 165 and letting out a little foul air in the doctor's face, he clipped again. Doc pressed his emergency flatulation buzzer and Nancy strapped the gas mask on him. She went back to her corner of the room.
"Wow, Mr. Youngie, I told you no burritos before you came in here."
Well after that last pluck, I lost count.
Only remember a little thrashing around and trying to break the leg stirrups and run on home. Tried to get him to deliver this baby I have been carrying around for years in my big fat belly, but he told me that would cost extra, and he wasn't hanging around that old construction behind any longer than he had to.
By now Nancy was rolling in the floor of the emergency room.
Well about pluck number seven I think, I was raised permanently off the operating room metal table, with a clutched up behind. Doc told Nancy to get the really big jar of goose grease for the last couple of plucks.
Had my eyes closed tight now except for an occasional glance at the blood pressure machine. All those ringing bells showed me the pressure was now at 171. Ding, ding, ding, but a quick glance at the heart monitor showed a quickening beat.
"No flat line", I called out to God in my mind. "No crash cart please." No "Code Blue"
Well I had lost track of the count now. Only remember one of the last three hitting close to my bladder and feeling the urge to give the Doc a nice little spray job with my bladder.
I guess that is why in the instructions, they tell you that you will have some blood in the urine after the operation.
Heard the "Bells of St.Mary's" ringing again as he plucked his last pluck. Up it shot to 181 and then to about 190 something.
The bullet he had given me (No anesthesia or medication to make me woozy had been given), but anyway back to the bullet.
Bit it a little too hard, and off went the bullet around that metal operation room.
Nancy ducked behind a metal table and shouted out " No more real bullets for you Mr. Youngie. Bring out the blanks."
So the doc asked me. "You been counting Mr. Youngie?" I cried, "No, sir". For some insane reason I could not even count to eight.
I asked him if that was eight and he took off his gas mask and said, " Yow man. We is finished."
Body came back on the table again And the BP came on back to around 130 something. (120/80 is about normal).
Asked the doc if we were going out to dinner tonight for some drinks. He said he really needed the drinks, but for some insane reason he wasn't very hungry.
I was his third date for the day, so I guess he was ready for a nice shower and that nice glass of booze.
Nancy turned me down too, saying she already knew everything she needed to know about Mr. Youngie.
Well, they reeled me back to the recovery room. Gave me some apple juice and graham crackers, and after seeing my BP go down to 128 they sent me home.
In the words of the nurses as I departed, "See you later Mr. Youngie", I hollered back, "I sure hope not."
Then off to wait for a week for the results.
"Thou will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed upon thee, because he trusteth in thee," Isaiah 26:3. (This is the verse I always quote while they are taking my blood pressure.)
Good news today July 17, 2006. All the samples of the biopsy came back negative. Hooray! Thank you Lord!
Oct 14, 2012. Six years later. I had another biopsy today and what a surprise. I made the mistake of reading about the first biopsy six years ago, right before my surgery today. That was a mistake. I had a lot of anxiety going on as I went into the operating room. Well what a surprise. There were no stirrups any more. The doctor just had me roll over on my side and place my back side over the edge of the table. Whew! That was much better and not as humiliating. Then he applied some topical anesthesia to my prostate, and gave me a shot to deaden the prostate. That hurt a little, but not much more than a flu shot. Then he started the clipping. I jumped at the first couple of clips, but no pain. I relaxed and began counting on my fingers which were tightly gripped to the side of the table There was no pain, so I relaxed for the rest of the clips. When we got to twelve, I told him it was twelve. He kidded me and said we had two more to go. Ha Ha. He was just kidding. I asked the nurse how high my blood pressure had spiked and it only went up to about 150. That was probably from anxiety and it returned to a normal 119 by the end of the procedure. I returned to the recovery room, and had no blood in my urine, so I was able to go home in just a few minutes after surgery. I went home and took a nap, and felt almost back to normal after that. Woke up the next morning, and everything was working fine, and I had no after effects of the biopsy. Now I will wait one week for the testing to come back to the hospital, and hope for the best. So men, take care of your health and go get a prostate check every year if you are over 50. Be sure and have your doctor do a Prostate-Specific Antigen (PSA) Test. Then he can advise you if you need a biopsy.
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