REGARDING THE URINARY STREAM...

Boys and young men can write their names in the snow. Middle aged+ men must generally be satisfied with initials, and men 60 and above are just grateful if their shoes don’t get wet. Sadly, I am in the last category, and only with the help of medication have I been able to keep my shoes dry. But the writing was on the wall (no pun intended), and the time had come for more drastic intervention.

Enter the age of “TUNA”, transurethral needle ablation of the prostate. Actually not the entire prostate, just the rim of tissue so inconveniently compressing the urethral outflow. Sensibilities prevent me from going into the details of this procedure, only to say that they do things that civilized people should not do to one another. Probes, needles, catheters, and radio waves are employed in the most creative manner. The good news is, it was over in an hour. The bad news is a catheter remains in place for a week.

Fortunately when it comes to pain and discomfort I am a tiger! Did I mention that yesterday? OK, so I felt a little faint when I got off the table after the procedure, but even tigers get a little woozy at times. But during the procedure I cried for ONLY 3 minutes when the good Dr. injected my prostate with lidocaine. And during the transurethral treatment I did not scream and kick him more than 3 or 4 times. Well, maybe 5.

My dear wife Patience drove the 2 1/2 hours home, and since then, with her tender care, aided by my very infrequent doses of percocet, and her wonderful soup, I have been on the mend.

Now if only I can get rid of this damn catheter.