Thursday, April 3, 2014 1:45-ish: I head back to the back like I do every single time I have twelve small tissue samples removed from my prostate. Proud, tall and loosey-goosey from the schedule IV controlled substance raging through my body. I have no idea what is about to happen. I haven’t researched the procedure….but the genius who decided to throw 30mg of valium at the patient before the “event” deserves a street named after him….because I really don’t care at this point. I’m sleep deprived and ready to go.

In the back: I am seated and the nurse, Paula checks my blood pressure and goes over a check list to verify i have followed my instructions. I am sitting just inside the room with the door to my left. I’m facing the workstation on the nearest wall. There’s a laptop and the usual containers that you would expect to find in a doctor’s examination room. I cautiously look around the room. On the far wall is the exam table. On the wall beside the table I spot three or four small pieces of paper taped to the wall at a forty-five degree angle. My linear OCD is triggered but doesn’t consume me enough to stop me from casing the room. Just at the head of the table there is a very large machine that takes up quite  bit of space. I decide not to look too closely at this machine as I am sure it is what will be used for today’s main event. We are chatting about stuff. I really don’t remember what exactly. I remember how nice she is and that she has a good sense of humor. Out of nowhere she asks, “What kind of music do you like?”. I draw a complete blank. I stutter and try to figure out where the heck that came from and what the heck that has to do with my prostate. She points to her laptop and explains that they like to play music during the procedure to relax the patient. She dumbs it down for me, “What station do you like on XM?”. I slur, “…uhm..lithium I guess…90’s..grunge…”. I can’t quite get it out as the valium is now affecting my speech. Stone Temple Pilots or Alice in Chains is now playing from the tiny computer speakers. I immediately regret my decision of music. I should have gone with a lighter brand of music. Oh well, live and learn. I will  suggest they add the music choice to the patient’s prep list.

She instructs me to stand up so she can give me a shot in the butt. I continue to feel the effects of the drug and shuffle over towards the long table by the far wall and I kind of stand there trying to figure out if I am to drop my drawers or offer her a cheek. She matter-of-factly strolls over and pulls down my waistband and stabs my hip with a tiny needle. She hands me a huge blue paper napkin as she turns to leave and instructs me to take off my shorts, lay on my left side facing the wall and cover up. I thank her and  start to disrobe as I hear the door shut. As I lay my head on the pillow I get it. Before my eyes the mystery of the crooked paper on the wall is revealed. They are  cartoons and comic strips lending a little humor to my situation. I didn’t have my glasses on so it  was lost on me but  appreciated none-the-less.

I hear the door open and hear Eric and Paula talking. I have had time to rethink my music selection and I share with them my new selection. I garble out, “I thought of a better song for the occasion…”. I begin to sing the song “Getting to Know You” from “The King and I“. It garnered a giggle and a smirk as far as I could tell. Eric seats himself at the foot of the bed which leads to light conversation. We talk a little baseball and I remind him I have two gigs in two days and he again tells me I will be fine. He prepares me for the first step of the procedure. He continues and in mid sentence I feel a piercing in the center of my soul.

The shot of lidocaine was the most painful part of all of this. I guess the combination of valium and  the shot in my hip did the trick because I don’t remember him even being in the neighborhood. The lidocaine went straight to my tongue. My tongue wouldn’t cooperate at all. The metal taste in my mouth and jumbled words were almost instant. The pitch of my voice became much higher and my original thought I was working through had vacated. He was right though. The first one was going to hurt and hurt it did. but then as soon as it was…it wasn’t. He now had  eleven samples to collect. We counted down with each tissue sample and soon it  was over. He stood up and proclaimed the procedure a success. They left me with the supplies I needed to clean up including but not limited to some wipes and napkins and a sanitary napkin to put in my boxers for any bleeding. All sweet gestures to leave me with my dignity and self respect. For the record, a sanitary napkin does not work with the “V cut” of a man’s boxers. I should have worn jockey shorts and I will also suggest that be added to the prep list.

I swing my legs around and clean myself up and place my sanitary napkin in my boxers which is completely futile considering my state of mind. I do the best I can. I look down beside the bed and see an empty condom wrapper. I chuckle. What were the odds? Eric comes in with the nurse (I think) and gives me my final instructions and sends me out front.

Everything from here on is a little foggy. I don’t have a clear picture to describe. Michelle is surprised I’m out so soon….I kinda remember her being a little disappoint she didn’t get to read all of her material…. I’m hungry and ready to go home. I’m a little grumpy and ready to hit the couch. We drive by a local place and grab some food. I’m still a little out of it. Kinda like I’m in slow motion. Everything from here on is still a little foggy.I eat and lay down. It was the best sleep I had in a couple of weeks. I drift off after I get Mike’s text announcing his ETA. Sweet sleep, where have you been?