Page 19 of Comforting the Grump

“Uh-huh.” He scribbled something down. “Any blood in your urine?”

“No.”

“Painful urination?”

“No.”

“Sexual activity? Any new partners? A change in frequency? Anything out of the ordinary other than erectile issues, like injuries?”

“No changes in frequency. You know I hook up often, at least twice a week and more if I can fit it in.”

“No pain with ejaculating?”

“Not that I have noticed.”

“Right,” Fir said softly. He paused, considering his words carefully. “Marnin, sexual health can be a complex interplay ofphysical and emotional factors. We shouldn’t rule out anything, including the psychological angle.”

“Psychology?” I scoffed, though the prospect unnerved me. “What, you think this is all in my head?”

“Sometimes the mind has more control over our bodies than we’d like to admit,” he replied gently. “But let’s not jump ahead. I suggest seeing a urologist for a comprehensive evaluation, including a prostate check.”

Prostate. And there was the word I’d been dreading. I wasn’t stupid. At my age, I was at risk for prostate cancer. “Can’t you do it?”

“I can do a quick PSA test, which stands for Prostate Specific Antigen. That can give us an indication if anything’s wrong. But the test is notorious for having false positives, so if it’s positive, that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong. However, false negatives are rare.”

“Sure, let’s do that. And a prostate exam?”

His face softened. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with me doing that?”

“I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t. It’s gonna be weird no matter who sticks their fingers up my ass.”

Fir repressed a smile. “Point taken. Okay. Let me draw some blood first, and then we can do the exam.”

The blood draw was done quickly, and then it was time to change into one of those stupid gowns and bend over the table. Fir snapped gloves on.

“Okay, I need you to relax as much as you can,” he instructed, his tone shifting into a reassuring clinical professionalism.

I’d never met someone who could relax on command, including me. As Fir began the exam, I focused on the sterile white walls, counting the tiny imperfections I found there to distract myself from the invasive sensation and the fear tangling up inside me.

“Any discomfort?” Fir’s voice broke through my reverie, calm and controlled.

“Other than my pride?” I tried for a joke, but it fell flat even to my ears.

After what felt like an eternity under Fir’s scrutinizing touch, he finally leaned back and peeled the latex from his hands with a snap that echoed too loudly in the small, sterile room.

“Everything seems normal, Marnin,” Fir said, his words methodical and even, yet not quite masking the concern etched into the lines of his forehead. “No abnormalities that I can palpate, but that doesn’t mean we’re in the clear.”

My heart sank—a strange cocktail of fear and disbelief sloshing through my veins. Normal? Then why the hell couldn’t I perform? It was supposed to be good news, but it left me with more questions than answers.

“Look, I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear,” Fir continued, his voice softening. “You were hoping for a quick fix, something obvious and easily treatable. But bodies aren’t always straightforward, and neither are their problems.”

“Great,” I grumbled as I put my clothes back on. “So, what’s next? Am I supposed to accept that my dick has a mind of its own now?”

“The next step is to see a urologist. They’ll have more specialized equipment and tests that can help us figure out what’s going on. You might need more blood work, imaging, maybe even a biopsy if they deem it necessary.”

“Biopsy?” The word hung heavy between us, a specter of something darker lurking beyond the veil of medical jargon.

“Only if they think it’s needed, Marnin. I’ll have the results of the blood work for you by tomorrow, okay?”

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