MY TURP EXPERIENCE BLOG

DADDY’S DRAIN PAIN
The bladder - muscular, hollow, balloon-like – is our body’s waste reservoir, designed by the creator to store unwanted fluid that ultimately needs to be expelled. It’s the central piece of a complex excretory system. For some men this structure, usually taken for granted, may abort its role in the daily unwanted fluid management cycle and begin to falter.
The male anatomy has several moving parts in addition to the bladder. kidneys, ureters, urethra, prostate gland and Mr. Happy who offers the final firehose delivery. The pissiare revealing a wonderful system that for most of a man’s life functions well … until it doesn’t.
What could possibly go wrong? How do I not love thee? Let me count the ways.
Well, one way the love ain’t there is the beloved firehose slowly being demoted to a small stream featuring the seepy twins - dribble and trickle. This suggests there is a kink in the line and for aging dudes that crimp is often caused by the prostate gland (aka ‘The Prostate’).
The Prostate has a well-known physical analogy - a walnut. It’s similar in size and has two halves. The Prostate also has two sides (lobes) separated by the urethra that was designed by the creator to dispense pee to Mr. Happee. It was not in the original design plan for The Prostate to put a squeeze on the flow that results in many mature men griping about the grip.
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And so, a few years ago I met the fate described here. The twins appeared and I needed to figure out how to liberate the liquid without too much damage to the waterworks. Using a tree analogy there was a forest of possibilities and in the end I chose a method to trim the leaves to allow traffic to flow. I summoned Dick, my urologist. He (who loves to carve) was happy to comply.
The pruning day arrived and my lower torso was put into slumber mode (you will feel a pinch) while Dr. Dick sharpened the blade of a long scalpel-like tool that also comprised a light and a camera (film at eleven). The operating room was darkened which highlighted Dick wearing a miners-type headlight and wearing a joker-like smile. “Open wide”, I think I heard him say but maybe that was just an echo from a recent dentist visit. He inserted the instrument at the mercy of my business gaining access to The Prostate. From my perspective it resembled a spear heading the wrong way on a one-way path. The roto-rooting had begun.
Being fully awake was surreal. I had wanted to yell, “You’re going to put that thing where??” but I didn’t want to mess with the ambiance. It was a romantic setting, quiet and dim. I expected mood music, but it stayed quiet. If there was music I’d probably hear, ♪ The first cut is the deepest ♪.
At some point I did blurt out loud, “Are you done yet?”
Dick nodded, “Yup, I believe I have crafted enough clearance.”
Praise the God of all prostates, I reflected.
I think the doc might have kept on going, mesmerized by the slicing and dicing of my nethers.
“That’s a wrap,” Dr. Dick sighed.
The lights brightened and the staff were scurried about preparing for the next sculpting. I was wheeled down to a holding area to thaw my lower half which still felt weird. “Where are my legs?” I muttered to the gurney pilot.
“I dunno,” he replied. I just drive the stretcher.
He didn’t catch the jest.
Several hours later my lower half came to life and I realized there was a catheter AND a hose protruding from Sir Happy. This spectacular configuration seemed like an impossible feat. Akin to two huge logging trucks driving side-by-side down a narrow forest road. I did feel a pinch.
In order to be discharged from this torture I was required to deliver a set-timed amount of wee-wee to prove the system was back up and running. I achieved that the next day and it felt like I deserved a medal for bravery under fire.
And now, finally, the dreaded moment of truth before I could leave. Removal of foreign hardware. I felt another two pinches. As I recall these pinches were elevated to, ‘these extractions will be a tad uncomfortable’.
Duh. Ya think?
The recovery went well. The unwanted leaves had been trimmed to the forest floor and my firehose returned, analogous to the sound of a gushing waterfall.