Thursday, February 17, 2011

Remove Your Pants And Bend Over, Please.

The room is cold and industrial and is fashioned with minimalistic design if any. I sit on the padded table and wonder if this steel cubicle could be used for interrogation or other clandestine purposes, is this the type of room where lives end if secrets are not spilled and spilled blood is the preferred outcome?
I hate waiting in such small places, I wonder if I am being watched, being judged on some minuscule fuzzy black and white soviet era monitor. Are there cameras in here? Shit I hope not.
The man enters the box and his salutary greetings are practiced and stale, I wonder how many times a day he does this, does he ever question the time was was faced with that fork in the road and chose this path? Only he knows and he 'aint telling.

His order is clear and precise "Remove your pants and bend over." Damn,
does this flesh covered robotic man realize the power in those words?
If these syllables were uttered in a bar while busy in the swirl of the drink, does robot-man know the consequences of his breath? I think not because if that was said to a man in a pub the outcome would be clear and simple and the Marquess of Queensberry rules would not apply.

Unfortunately on this day we are on his turf and this cold, steel cubicle is his domain. He is the doctor and I am his patient.
I am about to have my first prostate exam. Fuck.....

Bent over a table is not a good look for a grown man.

Bent over a table and hearing the steely snap of a latex glove is not much better.

Finally, bent over a table hearing the tube of lube being squeezed into said latex glove makes even
the most hardened scrapper run for his happy place.

On this crappy day I am the recipient of all of the above and off to my happy place I go.
Shite, it's closed for the winter dammit happy place you are supposed to
be open 24/7 and 365. I must face this in real time.

So here I am bent, lubed and entered, my manhood in peril of becoming questioned and all I can think of is "I wonder if this would be easier if the doctor was a woman, a good looking woman?" No, I think it would be just as bad because there is the other issue to deal with when your pants are down to your ankles and breasts are in the vicinity. Double embarrassing.

"Necessary" was my word of the day, as robo-doc reached for my tonsils taking the scenic route, I kept saying over and over:
necessary, necessary, necessary.....
And to think when robo-doc pulled out was finished with the test, his next auto simulated syntax was:
"There are towels over there, clean yourself up." 
What the hell robo-doc no dinner, no dancing or flowers? Are you humping and dumping you rat bastard! you deflowered me and all you can conjure up is:
"Clean yourself up." 
It gave me a new respect for the street walkers and other assorted sex workers, at least they carry their own lube, allegedly.

I now have a better understanding of how women feel while propped up and peeled wide in the gynecologist's chair, I get the fact that it's for medical reasons at least I had my back turned to robo-doc, I could not imagine him entering me from the front and having to look him dead in the eyes while trying to make small talk.
"Catch the game last night Doc?" 
Damn scary thought that is.

My father was diagnosed with prostate cancer and it is my duty as a son to get myself checked. As explained above the entire process from the cold room to the lifeless doctor was about as pleasant as a kick in the nuts right after you have been kicked in the nuts.
Anyway the good news is that my father crushed his cancer through radiation and is as healthy as a Scottish Clydesdale and good old Sausage is cancer free but now has a bit of a limp. Damn you robo-doc.

Sausage and his Dad, kicking cancer's ass.

Lets hear it then, whoever is the first to 
make the most obvious comment 
gets the prize, the last of the soon to be world famous
Sausage Fingers mouse pads.
I know you are a dirty bunch so come on what ya got.

The last one



  1. So now you know what last week was like for me. 'cept along with the prostate, I had the kidneys scanned, and the bladder, and the doc seemed to spend a long, long time examining Maps dangly ones! And I can say with all honesty, no one involved took pleasure from the proceedings! :¬)

    Good to get these things done tho', I have lost all sense of embarrassment! :¬)

  2. And he didn't even buy you dinner first? That pig.

  3. ooh, you guys sound like a bunch of weiners!!! peein' and moanin' over a little thing like a rectal exam! you haven't birthed a 10 pound baby plus several others of varying weight and length, have you? or had your little thing all ripped apart and then sewn up with no anesthesia? or, well, i could go on, but the memories are just far too, well, memorable, boys!!!


    but so glad a clean bill of health is had by all now! that's all that counts!

  4. There's something wrong here mate, your description of the exam sounds different fae mine. When I went, ma doctor told me it's better if the lights are dimmed, then he shared a box of chocolates and a bottle of champagne with me, next thing I remember was waking up half an hour later wi a throbbing erse and........AH FACKING HELL!!!!!

  5. I have such great memories of the first time I had a rectal exam. As soon as that rubber glove went on it was downhill all the way. Funnily enough I saw the doctor a week later at my kids' daycare picking up his daughter. I thought of saying 'last time I saw you you had your hand up my bum' but resisted the temptation.

  6. Hey SF, we women get that one too at some point, along with a couple of fingers up the petunia and the other hand on the belly, trying to roll the ovaries around between the two hands. Now that ain't exactly comfortable, let me tell you! One finger up the bum is nothing in comparison. Quit bein' such a wimp, all you guys!

  7. well, most of the basics have been covered. the "quit whining, fella, we've gotten this sort of probe annually from the time we're 18", to the "he didn't even buy you dinner" along with the "i feel yer pain, mate" comments...

    how about - "Be grateful the doc didn't have sausage fingers"

  8. We all seem to be falling apart together. So far the news seems to be positive. May it continue, and full marks SF for being vigilant:)

  9. Map - the doc spent much time on yer dangles
    do you have 3?

  10. UB - No dinner, although I limped my way into subway for a $5 footlong. Seemed kind of ironic.

  11. Gypsy - 10lbs. a true testament to the strength of woman....

    Ryan - was this a prison exam? are you dating now?

    David - Did you shake his hand?

    Ponita - thanks for a new coochie word (Petunia) I will use it the future.

    Daisyfae - ding...ding...ding...
    Yes, praise the lord the doc did NOT have sausage fingers. Bullet dodged. Check your e-mail for the prize....

    Pat - thanks, the true message is for men to nut up and just go to the doc

  12. Nice story Baj, but we all know you enjoyed it....

  13. Any woman (like me) who has gone through fertility "treatment" has the right to laugh heartily at your exam. And I hate, really hate, to be nasty, but during a gynocological exam, we get the rectal at the same time we're getting the, uh, other finger. And before that, we get felt up by the gyno while being asked about our summer vacation plans.

    I did get a phone number on the way out, though. The number of the mammogram center where I need to go next.

    I will buy myself flowers and chocolates afterwards.

    Glad to hear that you are cancer (and now finger) free.

  14. G - Don't make me come to Scotland and spank you.
    remember, I have seen you naked!!!

  15. Housewife - Flowers and chocolates are the least you can do for yourself after that,
    for me it was whisky and whisky and then some whisky.
    cheers, Sausage...

  16. I raise you a squished boob for a mammogram.

  17. Mrs. Tuna - touche.... and ouch

  18. i won? I WON?!?!? YIPPEE!!! A MAJOR AWARD! i'm honored!

    oh, and if you're not using that 'lube shooter', feel free to throw that in the box. i mean... if you're sending me a prize anyway... you never know when the ol' bike chain is gonna need a little grease.

  19. Daisyfae - I'll have it dry cleaned for ya.
    Congrats again.

  20. 3, is that not normal? :¬)

  21. Map - I am off tae the loo for a quick look.
    As they say "The luck 'o the Irish"

  22. Have any stories about catheters?

    Your dad and you are quite an ass kickin' pair!

  23. Goddess - Catheters? one intrusion at a time.

    My Dad - A true hero - a man without a real father of his own, raising 3 knuckleheads on 2 different continents.

  24. Jimmy - The Clootie was laughing his arese off.
    Cheers, Sasuage...

  25. SF, I shall leave the comments for others as 1.) I respect your decision to do what is necessary, and 2.) I just received my very own They Call Me Sausage Fingers mouse pad in the mail today.

    I've kept your address. You may expect to get a holiday card from me in the future. :-)


  26. Pearl - Glad you got the pad

  27. I don't envy you! Although Hearts did ram it right up Dundee United yesterday...

  28. Mike - you bastard!!! Don't let Mr. Goodwillie aroond yer bairns or any other bairns for that matter.
    Cheers, Sasuage..

  29. I think you ought to circulate this. It's a good article on an important topic, and you might even get a date.

  30. Dude, I have had so many doctors examine me, it's practically a free-for-all. I'm like Pavlov's Dog - if someone says pants and shoes off and sit on the table, before you know it I am bottomless and confused on an urban city street.

    I feel your pain. Even better than all this? A colonoscopy while completely awake, coherent and aware.

    Glad the bill of health is clean!

    Seriously?... Reeeally??... Seriously?


  31. Hey Stephanie - pants off and shoes off.
    Cheers, Sausage...

  32. Love the pix of you and your dad, and glad you're cancer free.

    You crack me up!1

  33. Janie - thanks, I am fortunate enough to live and be close to my parents. More hilarity is coming, I promise.