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I have created a new acronym, of greater relevance than LGBTQ.
PPPOWPP: Prostate Possessing Persons Of Whatever Political Persuasion.
Listen up, all of you. I don't care what you think of Scott Adams or Joe Biden. If you are a masculine person of the male persuasion, you will almost certainly get prostate cancer. It won't kill most of you, but they'll notice it after you die of something else.
Fact #1: Prostate cancer kills men, second only to lung cancer.
Fact #2: Prostate cancer can be dealt with if you catch it early enough.
Fact #3: Not wanting anyone to stick their finger up your Tierra Del Fuego is a guy thing, but in this case, it is stupid.
My family gets aggressive cancers. My dad and one of my brothers died of prostate cancer. Dad, because he refused to go anywhere but a VA hospital and so didn't get the exams he should have. Larry, because he was between jobs and uninsured for five years, and that's all it took for the cancer to get him. Another brother got surgery early and has been cancer-free for 25 years. I got an annual PSA check, and when it spiked, I got a biopsy that came back positive, and then I got the surgery. It wasn't quite fast enough, because the little bastard managed to sneak into a lymph node as well as giving me a compression fracture in my spine; after nearly a lifetime of being six feet five, I am now a bent old man of six feet. The good news is that therapy whacked it, and the spine healed, albeit shorter and bent. We zeroed out my testosterone and I'm on an insanely expensive daily pill, but my PSA has been 0 for over four years. I get quarterly checkups and shots, have a wonderful palliative care physician for the back pain, and enjoy walking with a stick. I have a very nice rack of walking sticks, from a beautiful applewood to a carbon fiber number with a concealed blade (not a sword cane, those are worthless, but with a four-inch blade in one hand and the shaft in the other—I have some great defensive moves). So, there's no reason why I can't expect to keep up the grumpy old man act for another decade at least.
There is a CT scan that is specific to prostate cancer that targets bone. I'm Gleeson 7 (Scott Adams is Gleeson 9), so I get that annually. You can't miss the appointment, because the radioactive contrast is custom-made; it's only hot for 24 hours. I think it's hilarious that they instruct you not to hug anyone for six hours after the procedure. It's disappointing not to glow in the dark.
My message to you PPPOWPPs? If you are over 40, make sure you do the PSA test when you get blood work done. If you're over 50, get the impolite finger annually. If anything looks off, get the tests. We learn more about prostate cancer every day. You are in a war, and intel is crucially important. With enough good information, you can make decisions the way a grown man should. If you are dying of prostate cancer, you have my complete sympathy. Just don't die of stupidity. Don't die because you talked yourself out of getting the information that was available to you.
I'm not afraid of dying because I have a plan: live as well as I can, for as long as I can. If I were dying and knew it was because I didn't want to bother to get a test or bend over a table with my pants at half mast, that would be hard to take. We all check out sooner or later. Do it with your self-respect intact.
Discussion (21)
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You have a terrific attitude, Doug! Thanks for urging other men to get it done!
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Get your colonoscopy every 5/10 years too.
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Absolutely. The colonoscopy was a little outside the scope of that post, but I am a firm believer. Besides, no one has ever written better about colonoscopies than Dave Barry. I'll have to look up that article and link to it. It's a classic.
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Wait, so bending over a table with a finger in your butt maintains your self respect?
"bend over a table with my pants at half mast, that would be hard to take. We all check out sooner or later. Do it with your self respect intact."
For the record, on one of my initial encounters with Mrs. Nohaaj, I asked her to drive me to the local proctologist, who had incidentally, a warped and vicious sense of humor. He asked if she wanted to be in the room, while he cauterized my hemorrhoids into ashes. She loved the idea. She was given a sphincter level view of the triage.
I got nothing else, but self respect.
inflated perhaps, singed at the edges, of course, but intact!
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When I got my colonoscopy back in Feb, it was the first time I'd gotten one since leaving Arizona and changing doctors. I'd seen the new dr a few times since then, but not the colonoscopy. (That was actually delayed for over a year due to transportation issues.)
Before getting started, I asked his staff if he was okay with "dark humor" etc, and they said he was. So when he appeared to get started, I said to him "It's been a long time coming, but I figured it was about time you got to see this side of me." He laughed and said, "It's the highlight of my day!"
(As it turned out, even though it had been longer than it should have been, especially since I've had chronic ulcerative colitis for a long time, my results were completely fine. And no polyps at all, not even benign ones.)
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