Page 30 of Comforting the Grump

“Any particular situations where this occurs, or is it random?”

“Random. Sometimes, everything works fine. Other times, it’s like trying to start a car with no gas.”

“How often do you have sex, on average?”

“Before this started, at least three times a week, with various partners. I’m pansexual and have always had a high sex drive, so I sleep with all genders.”

I refused to feel embarrassed about that, but thankfully, the doctor didn’t even blink an eye. He merely tapped on his keyboard. “Do you have anal sex?”

“Yes.”

“Frequently?”

“Yes.”

“Do you usually top or bottom?”

At least he knew the terminology. “I’m vers, but I top more often. About a three-to-one ratio, I’d say.”

“And your erectile issues have happened with both?”

“It never even got that far. I bowed out beforehand.”

“Any recent injuries or surgeries in the groin area?”

“None.” My voice sounded foreign, detached, as if floating from someone else across the room.

He continued with a battery of questions about urinating, whether I had blood in my urine or stool, and all kinds of stuff that wasn’t suitable dinner conversation. I battled my way through it. If I wanted a correct diagnosis, he needed the facts. Embarrassment had no place here, and strangely enough, Ennio’s presence didn’t bother me at all. The intense relief over not being alone was too strong for that.

“Alright, I’m going to conduct a physical examination now. This will include checking your testes and prostate. It may be uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t hurt,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly toward Ennio before returning to me. “You can ask your partner to leave if you wish.”

Partner? Oh, of course. He assumed Ennio was my partner. I didn’t have the energy to correct him. “I’m fine with him staying.”

“Ready?” the doctor asked, looking up at me.

“Let’s get this over with,” I replied, bracing myself. I focused on the sterile smell, a scent as impersonal as the room’s beige walls.

The doctor’s touch was professional, but it couldn’t erase the vulnerability clawing up my throat. My analytical mind wanted to dissect each movement, to predict and control, but I forcedit into silence, instead studying the medical posters adorning the walls, anything to distract from the intimate invasion of my space.

“Take a deep breath,” the urologist instructed.

I complied, inhaling deeply, feeling Ennio’s silent support beside me like an anchor in this storm of discomfort. When the doctor’s fingers pressed in areas too personal, I exhaled through clenched teeth, my facade of composure cracking ever so slightly.

“Good,” Stein murmured. “Now, I’m going to conduct the digital rectal exam. You may feel pressure.”

The pressure came, firm and unrelenting, a necessary evil in the quest for answers. I fixated on a stain in the ceiling tile, tracing its lines with my eyes, anything to ground me to reality.

“Almost done,” the urologist reassured, his voice distant to my ears over the rush of blood and the loud hammering of my heart.

“Fantastic,” I managed, sarcasm laced with relief.

When the examination finally ended, I sat up swiftly, eager to diminish the lingering sensation of exposure. “That wasn’t on my list of top-ten experiences,” I quipped, attempting to chase away the gravity of the moment with humor.

“Very few patients would put it on theirs.” Stein discarded his gloves with a snap.

“Can’t imagine why.” Thank fuck that was done, though the hardest part was still to come.

“Let’s talk about your results. The good news is I haven’t found anything concerning from a physical standpoint.”

---