Before I get into the story, I should say that everything worked out for me and that I’m fine. Now, let’s get into it.
After the glove treatment, I sat on the papered table, awaiting the doctor’s thoughts. He walked back into the room after leaving briefly and asked me more about my symptoms. I explained I was getting up a lot during the night to use the bathroom. He went through a checklist of questions; How’s the stream? Is there pain in my hips, back, and chest? Is there numbness in my legs? Have I recently lost a lot of weight? Am I always tired?
I told him my weight has been steady, but I’m always in pain and always tired. That comes with the territory of being a work-at-home dad with 3 kids in the house. He looked at me in that way that let you know there might be a problem. He ordered a series of tests, including blood tests, urine test, and ultrasound. A week later, he said I needed to get an MRI as well. He asked me if there was a history of prostate cancer in my family, but I said “no.” The only person in my family that had prostate cancer was my stepdad, who died from the disease several years ago.
With all that in my head, it was a stressful three-week period. My first instinct was to not go through any tests and not address it. I already patted myself on the back for visiting the urologist in the first place. Pushing the anxiety aside, I went through with all the tests and all the visits, not for me, but for my kids.
Each visit to the urologist was a difficult one. Not because of the exams, but for the waiting room. A waiting room at an urologist’s office tells you a lot about men. There were men like me, alone in the waiting room, reading, texting, emailing, or some sort of disassociation. Some men had people with them, and more often than not, the people with them looked more stressed than the men. There were the over exuberant men who talked to everyone and laughed loudly to deal with the pressure of the moment. There were men who sat with their emotions, wiping tears away or stuffing down their anger. Most men were going to hear good news, while others were facing life-altering decisions.
I never talked to any of the men in the waiting rooms, but I overheard conversations. Their body languages also told me what they were going through. I saw one woman holding hands with her partner, with their fingers interlocked with one another. I don’t know if they were married or boyfriend and girlfriend. What was obvious, though, was that she loved him. While one hand joined his, her other hand stroked his forearm. He looked straight ahead in deep thought.
My eyes would dart around the room, then back to my phone. Every time a nurse or receptionist moved, I watched them to see if I was going to be next. Every time I saw a man stand up to follow a nurse, the same thing happened; a long exhale would occur.
On my last visit, I got the call and followed the nurse to the room. I went through the checklist again of how I’m feeling. The doctor told me I didn’t have cancer, and I felt a tremendous weight lifted off my back. He had some concerns, but nothing life threatening. I agreed to get a checkup the same time next year.
After I walked out of the examination room, I made my way through the lobby. The nurse called the man with the interlocked fingers, and the couple stood up. I heard her ask if she wanted him to go in, but he said no. He turned to walk away and her hand slid down his back. The nurse walked down the hallway with the patient in tow. I stepped into the elevator and pushed the button. The doors slowly closed while I took one last look at the waiting room full of concerned men.
All too often, we men only take care of ourselves because of our children. I wish we would do it for ourselves. My doctor was glad that I showed up when I did, because now we have something to work with and will know if something is off. I’ve also started a rapport with the doctor. He told me that many men show up in his office late in the process, when it’s harder to tackle the disease.
So, here is a call to action; men, make the appointment. Yes, the rubber glove treatment is awkward, but it’s important. Here’s where I should say do it for yourselves, but you probably won’t. If you are only going to the doctor because your kids need you, then go. Any reason to go is good. But go. Make the appointment. Take steps to be healthier.
1 in 8 men will be diagnosed with prostate cancer in their lifetime.
1 in 44 men will die of prostate cancer.
There is a 99% 5-year survival rate for men who are diagnosed early.
Prostate cancer is most common in men over 50.