Although it might seem odd to some, there's a certain sense of relief upon learning that one is not on the verge of death. In the past few weeks I've visited members of the medical profession for the first time in many years. At forty-six with a family history of heart disease and a personal run in with melanoma, I feared the worst.At first, I was not convinced that this emerging attention to health matters was at all a good thing. Certainly , my mother was healthy as could be before they ran that MRI to see what her vertigo symptoms would reveal. Sure enough, there's an embolism on her brain that could pop at any second. Or never. That's not something I'd want to think about. In fact, for all they can tell, it's been there for years and years.
After the first visit, I had to start taking blood pressure medication, lose a lot of weight, stop exercising, come back for blood work and ponder the 'ridge' that the good doctor had discovered on my prostate. The blood work, of course, revealed that my 'PSA' (prostate's sick alright) test revealed what it is intended to reveal and prompted yesterday's visit to the urologist. (I scored a 3.7 out of 4.0 -- not bad if I were still in school.)
Now, why anyone in his right mind would become a urologist is beyond me. There are things that even gobs of money out not to incite. But anyway, Dr. Jellyfinger and I had an intimate moment while 'The Mrs.' waited outside the exam room. He could feel the ridge, but commented that it didn't seem like much of anything to worry about. Of course, he added, the only way to know for sure is to have a biopsy. That's my next stop.Some Monday morning in September, I'll shuffle up to the outpatient surgical office her prefers and have twelve tissue samples taken. Twelve. Not one. Not even five. Twelve! I'll be sure to let you know how the rest of that day goes.
The moral of the story, I guess, is that one ought not visit the doctor unless one is prepared to hear bad news and visit more doctors. While ignorance surely can lead to an early demise, knowledge can sure as heck put a strain on whatever time one has left. Will I ever have pizza again?
