Worrying things the bus driver sometimes says.
“Next stop, the crematorium.”
Today I was working in the front garden. I was digging out Grape Hyacinths and Bluebells that are always threatening to overtake every other plant.
A lady stopped to pass the time of day. She lives fairly close by and I see her often, and wave. Occasionally we have a brief chat.
Today, she greeted me with, “Oh, I didn’t realise that you lived there, so close to me!” She told me that she was Secretary of the local Allotment Society, and how busy that kept her. She also informed me that she had a pacemaker fitted, and how it had given her a new lease of life.
The conversation progressed along traditional lines and then she set off to continue her journey home.
I did not let on that we had had an identical conversation last time she passed by when I was gardening at the front, almost at the same spot.
As she left I said, “I’m Peter by the way!”
She reminded me of her name.
For the life of me, I cannot remember what it is!!
I was going to call this “Two fingers, a small vibrator, and warm breath on my Willy”, but I thought that might excite some of my readers too much!
Too late! I’ve said it now, and I wholeheartedly apologise to the excitable blogger who likes a lot of cake. He is now lying panting under his desk and will need a large, stiff one to recuperate. I think his choice is Whisky!
I’m sure that all you ladies will agree that there can never be true equality. After all, you have to put up with menstruation, the pain of childbirth and discomfort of breast feeding, with mammograms, cervical smears, menopause, not to mention makeup, hairdo’s, high heels. The list goes on and on.
How can you possibly understand the trials of man flu, the worries of whether our tackle conforms to “average”, whether we could, if we wished, grow a beard or mustache, how to compete with Mr. Grey?
No! There can never be true equality.
I seem to have strayed from my original line of thought, so please bear with me while I give myself a severe talking to!
A couple of days ago I went to the doctors for a regular appointment and, being a man of a certain age, I was going for a check up of my parts.
By parts I mean PRIVATE parts. You know, the bits down there…………!
Now, it’s not the first time, and it will most definitely not be the last.
I no longer feel totally embarrassed, wanting to hide in a corner, nor do I think “Is s/he comparing me with others?” I do, however, make doubly, triply, quadrupley, sure that I am 100% clean, smell reasonably nice, and that my underwear is colourful enough.
This time I was being checked for sensitivity of the stomach and bowel, any testicular abnormalities, and for prostate irregularities. I’d already had blood and urine test results so was not overly concerned that there were going to be anything nasty to discover.
The doctor was superb and warmed his hands before touching anything. He handled my testicles as if they were the eggs of the last bird on earth. He was very gentle when he found that my prostate was slightly enlarged (which I already knew), but smooth. He gently cleaned up afterwards and I almost expected him to pat my bottom before telling me I could get dressed again.
As I walked away, with a smile on my face, I thought, “Damn – I forgot to take a selfie!”
On a previous check up I had been seen by his wife! Not just a random “Please let my wife feel your balls” kind of appointment. She really is a doctor too!
That experience was vastly different.
I think she was auditioning for the role of a juggler! I’m convinced that she used a pool cue to check my prostate, and the large end at that! When it came to pulling my pants back up, it was obvious that she had failed to wipe away any excess lubricant!
So, that’s the two fingers sorted!
Now we go back in time to the very first really intimate examination I can recall. I forget what age I was, but I was in the Army and, I think, probably in my late 20’s. I was suffering from quite severe hemorrhoids and had been referred to an Army hospital.
The consultant explained what he was going to do and that I would feel a slight vibration, but it should not hurt.
I did – and it didn’t!
I rather felt that, as he inserted the proctoscope and filled it with air, he really ought to have shouted out Wey Hey!
That covers the small vibrator!
There were many times when I had my testicles cupped in a doctor’s hand and was asked to “cough”! That was standard practice when I was a child, and during Army medicals. I was never quite sure what that was supposed to check!
I well remember the very first time I had my testicles fully checked as an adult. This particular doctor was a rather strange individual with a very unusual name. He was very good and had been my doctor of choice for some time. I had eventually plucked up the courage to ask him to check my testicles because I was concerned about tenderness.
He told me that he was going to kneel down in front of me, as that was the best position for him to check me thoroughly. What followed was a little disconcerting. As he gently tested me for any abnormalities I could feel his gentle breathing. It felt very close! I did totally the wrong thing and looked down, only to look straight into his smiling eyes!!!!!
There’s the warm breath!
If you’ve read this far I do hope that you have not been offended. There is a little humour in all of these situations but the main point, for both men and women, is that we have to check ourselves, and be professionally checked, at regular intervals.
If you’ve neglected self checks, or checks by your doctor, or hospital, sort it out now. It could save your life!
Look here where Kat Myrman has this wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 140 characters or fewer.
Here is this week’s prompt:
and my 2 attempts:
Sophie, the dementia care cat, knew that she may be roughly handled, she didn’t mind. She’d seen too many come and go, but loved them all!
Claude had been a faithful companion to Mary for 15 years. This was the best lap in the world. Together they breathed a last contented sigh!
Just happened across this great post from a Stay at home Mum. It’s lovely, and makes me want to read more, and that, surely, is what blogging is all about!
I thought I had a while before I had to worry about boys, sex, drugs and other perfectly normal but still terrifying things that teenage girls go through. I don’t. It’s here. And it smacked me right in the face. How do we approach this time in their lives? I mean.. parents don’t know anything right? We haven’t lived through any of it. We have no idea what that are talking about. We have no clue what they are dealing with. At least that’s what my daughter would say.
My ex husband and I got divorced when my daughter was very young. Most of her life I’ve lived in another state. I’ve been there the best that I could given the circumstances. But it’s taken a toll. It’s getting much better as she has got older, but there are still future hardships to go through. So I decided to write…
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We all know what a Will is, and we’ve all made one haven’t we?
Of course! It would be silly not to have done so.
How about a Living Will? Good idea too!
These are not things to do when you are older, they are things that we all should have done long ago. If you haven’t, then arrange to do it soon.
I would add a further will, a Dementia Will. That is, how you would wish to be treated if you have to live with Dementia. You can read mine here:
Please use it as a basis for your own. I pray that it sits, unused, forever!
Make your journey special!
Some great thoughts here.
A couple of months ago, completely out of the blue, I received an e mail from the editor of an American website, asking if I would be willing to be a guest blogger on their site. They had read my blog and thought that their readers may be interested in what I had to say.
After some serious thought, I decided to give it a go. Here is a link to my first blog.
See what you think!