In hindsight...

I've learnt through personal experience that it's usually best not to say exactly what you think sometimes or reveal everything about yourself all the time......but occasionally things happen to you that you feel compelled to tell other people about. Still - that's no excuse for what I'm about to tell you now.

A prostate examination is an unpleasant but necessary procedure for any man over the age of forty. I'm lucky. I have a doctor with a sense of humour and warm hands, and until recently I've suffered nothing more than a momentary cringe of indignity and embarrassment.

However, a couple of weeks ago, I was referred to a specialist. As you can appreciate, I was a little apprehensive as I approached the reception of a small surgery in St Leonards. I exchanged nervous glances with a couple of other moist-palmed patients in the waiting room and took a seat beneath a large medical diagram of a penis on the wall.

Grey haired and brow beaten, he wore the weary expression of a man that sticks his finger up stranger's bottoms for a living. The proctologist read through my referring notes, checked my lab results and inquired about my general health. 'Okay let's take a look, shall we', he said with a half smile.

I'd been through this procedure with my regular doctor and started to remove my trousers in preparation to climbing side saddle onto the examination table. 'No need to take the trousers off - just drop them down to your ankles', he said as he plumped up a pillow on the bed. It's at this point I started to feel a little uncomfortable....

Half expecting to hear the strains of porno music, I glanced apprehensively over my shoulder and looked for the hidden video camera, but I only caught a glimpse of the proctologist adjusting his latex glove and squirting a generous amount of lubricant onto his stumpy fingers.

Now. I'm not going to go into the details with you. However, anyone who has gone through the same experience will tell you that the last thing you expect your doctor to say is 'Can you spread your legs a little further apart and lift your bottom towards me'......some mood lighting and a couple of glasses of Merlot may have helped me relax a little more at this point.

When I returned to the reception area there were a few more patients in the waiting room. They all looked up at me in unison, silently searching for a clue that would betray their fate beyond the closed door.

'How are you feeling', asked the receptionist.

'He has very large hands, doesn't he', I stated loudly to her.

I could hear the nervous shuffle behind me......