I went to the urologist today. You’d think any activity that requires me to get naked from the waist down, sit back in a chair with my legs in stirrups and wait for an older man to come in, crank the chair up so my crotch is level with his face, and tell me to “try to relax” while he manhandles my junk, would be an activity I would thoroughly enjoy.
Me waiting for the doctor.
But it’s not. It’s uncomfortable and awkward and I don’t like doing it BUT it’s better than having strictures grow undetected on my urethra and totally block my ability to pass urine because, let me tell you folks, THAT hurts like asumminabitch.
So I’ll endure the minor discomfort on a regular basis to avoid the major pain and risk of surgery.
And here I thought I had nothing to blog about.