I'm that age
I went to see the doctor a few weeks ago.
Not something I do normally.
I'm of that breed of man that could sever an arm and sit around thinking should I call for help?
Is it really that serious?
I wouldn't want to bother anyone with something so minor.
You see, I'm macho as fuck me.
Honestly, ask anyone.
If I had a lump in my scrotum it would have to be verging on the size and shape of a third testicle before I'd go to the doctors.
Stupid, I know, but most men will know where I'm coming from.
Anyway my point is that I'm not one of those fabled men that claim they're dying when they have a head cold. (Funnily enough I've never actually met one either, but I've heard plenty of woman talking about them.)
So now that I've cleared that up, and you know what sort of fella I am I'll get back to what I was going to say about visiting the doctors.
So there I was in the doctors and he mentioned that as I was of a certain age, had I considered visiting the well man clinic?
I said that the thought had never really crossed my mind to be honest.
He then went on to promote the whole thing, with prevention and education being so important, and it was really only a chat and the checking of blood pressure…………and the like. (remember that, "and the like")
Five minutes later I found myself in a room with one other guy.
This was a bit of a surprise as I was expecting a room full.
I had this image in my head of a bunch of guys sitting in a circle getting told to cut down on red meat and alcohol.
So where the fuck were they all?
Probably eating steaks and washing them down with large steins of beer I suppose.
So the actual reality was one guy sitting across the room with his back to me, and not much else.
The room wasn't even that fancy. You could best describe it as an upgraded broom closet.
After a couple of seconds he turned and said "Well man".
I thought he was making conversation and I said "yeah", to which he replied. "Well If you would like to drop your trousers and underwear we'll get you examined then"
The first thing that crossed my mind was "we".
Who the fuck was "we". There was only him in the room excluding me, and I didn't reckon I was qualified in examining myself.
Was this the royal 'we'?
Obviously as amateur examinations go I've got a frequent flyer badge, but I wasn't sure if my idea of an examination counted as the real thing.
A quick fondle, even a stroke.
It's not really classed as a medical examination as far as I'm aware.
In fact I think it's more commonly known as a wank.
Funnily enough though, for some strange reason I didn't even question the guy. I just went onto automatic pilot.
Lets be honest here, if a doctor or nurse asked you to do something you just do it.
It's conditioned into you.
Five seconds after the request I was standing there with my jeans and boxers (Pierre Cardin size medium for those who are interested. That will make it easier to paint a picture in your head) around my ankles with this guy crouched in front of me.
Everyone makes the jokes about trying hard (sic) not to get an erection when being examined by a foxy nurse. It's a stereotype thing that gets laughed about to hide the actual fact that most people are shitting themselves, but here I was, with a guy I've never met before fondling my scrotum. (roughly I may add.)
He never even offered to buy me a drink. There was no danger of anything rising to the occasion under these circumstances.
I just stood there.
I was frozen to the spot feeling his hand on me, and to be honest my penis was shrivelling at the thought of what was next.
It must have looked like the last rolo in the packet.
And then the door opened and a female nurse walked in, took one look at us and said "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING"
No. I'm kidding that didn't happen at all, but while he was rolling my testicles in his hand one at a time, the thought that I hadn't checked for ID or even ask who he was did cross my mind.
Next he felt down the length of my penis, pinching it between thumb and forefinger using both his hands.
Meantime I was staring at the furthest uppermost corner of the room and concentrating really hard on nothing at all.
I heard him mutter "Well everything looks and feels fine. You can put everything back on now". I'm still not sure if he meant in a medical sense or he was simply giving a compliment, but I wasn't going to ask him to clarify it.
I think I was in shock after that, because I can't really remember anything else that happened, or even leaving the surgery.
I'm thinking of getting some of that regression hypnotherapy to unlock what happened. I wasn't sore anywhere. So I'm hoping I wasn't abused.
Well abused anymore than what I remember.
The end result was everything was fine it would seem, but in hindsight I can't help feeling that all I did was go in a room and get my tackle prodded and stared at by a stranger.
He didn't even tell me to cut down on red meat and alcohol.
I've never been so embarrassed in my whole life.
I've got another appointment for next week though. Maybe he'll stick his finger up my bum this time.