Mid-Life Crisis Songs #38: Tests

So it's been a tough few months. Moving house really took it out of me this time, and when I started back at work in late August, the bosses threw a load of stressful crap at me, forced a change on my working hours (which I've had for 8 years), and half my colleagues either quit for other jobs or went off on the sick.

Then, during a routine appointment to sign up at a new GP's, they found blood in my urine. Teeny tiny traces - 8 blood cells! - but apparently that's enough to fast-track you for a barrage of pretty serious tests. And I received one of the above leaflets in the post, something that nobody ever wants to receive.

Over the course of the last fortnight then, I've had a prostate & testicle exam (probably overdue), an ultrasound of my kidneys and urinary tract, and... best of all... an endoscopy.

"I thought an endoscopy was where they shoved a tube down your throat," a mate of mine said.

It wasn't down my throat.

"Up your bum?"

Nor up my bum.

"Well, where else are they gonna... oh."

Apparently the NHS will now happily stick a camera up any hole on your body, so why go for a big, boring hole like your mouth or bum when they can stick a camera up the smallest hole in male anatomy? The highlight is when the camera pushes through the sphincter that separates your pee pipe from your bladder (the thing that stops you weeing yourself). After that, they pump water up the tube to fill your bladder because it photographs better when it's full. All this while the doctor is telling you it'd be far less uncomfortable if you just relaxed.

"I bet you'd rather be at work right now," said the nurse.

If only she knew...

Sitting around in the recovery room, they gave out a questionnaire, the main question being "How likely would you be to recommend this department to family and friends?"

"You're doing a brilliant job," said one of the other guys in the room, "but... recommend this? I think I might have to say no."

The NHS is an amazing thing, and why anyone in their right mind would want to see it dismantled or sold off to the Americans, I cannot comprehend... unless there's a sizeable chunk of money in it for the ne'er-do-wells who want to see it happen, perchance?

Eight bloods cells led to a swift referral, in which time I've been checked for prostate cancer (no sign), testicular cancer (no sign) and bladder cancer (no sign). And my kidneys looked OK too. 

"Blood in the urine is pretty common and the majority of times it goes undiagnosed," said the consultant. But they still wanted to get me checked out. And every appointment I've had was not just on time, but ahead of time. What a marvellous organisation. 

So, fingers crossed, nothing to report. A few sleepless nights and a little perspective on the bigger picture. I'll see if I can get back to semi-regular blogging soon.