You are so f..ing funny you distracted me from the Fascistic dumpster fire we are experiencing. I laughed, loud and hard reading this gem, in a way I haven’t for a long, long time. I hope you live forever.
I once experienced a prostate biopsy which I now refer to as my bi-ooopsy, because my urologist, who hailed from Romania, "forgot" what I no consider to be an important step in the prostate biopsy process; namely the anesthetic. 11 snips. At the time I truly believed he had inserted a swarm of rectal hornets. In the spirit of American male stoicism, I never told him...but I did go home and Google "Is Romania still a member of NATO?" just in case he had a beef.
Umm, even for the group of knuckleheads, er, I mean, carefree spirits, who comment regularly on Dave's substack, this might've been TMI. Just sayin'. All of my insides puckered up noticeably when I read your comment.
I have been examined and treated for infertility in my 30s and now for prostate cancer in my 70s. I no longer have any shame.
When I was 35, while being prepped for surgery to tie off a blood vessel to varicocele on my left festicle, I had my pubes shaved by a young woman who appeared to be about 16, and for some reason I wasn’t arrested.
I was hopped up on Valium.
I don’t know if she was medicated, but I hope so.
I have had loud public discussions with infertile male friends about sperm count and motility without caring who overheard.
A couple of years ago I had a biopsy of my prostate that somehow stimulated my vagus nerve, leaving me unable to move, alone and pants-less in the procedure room.
A young woman eventually found me helpless on the exam table and called the doc back in to rescue me.
Then you pee blood for a week.
After two of these procedures my advice is, if a urologist says the words “prostate biopsy”, run like hell.
Before anyone freaks out, 8 weeks of radiation therapy killed off the cancer and shrunk my prostate to the size of a raisin.
Not worse but weirder. I don’t blame Florida for what happened. My roomie was supposed to arrange a place for us to stay. I did not know that she’d just been invited to come on down by some guy and didn’t let him know that she intended to come visit. So there went our accommodations. We ended up sleeping in our rental car and showering at a gym in Ft Lauderdale.
Hijinx and a lot of alcohol ensued.
On our way back to Texas, we told my eldest bro that we were going to stop by. He lived north of Atlanta and our map didn’t show the best route.
We arrived hours late. We found out he gave up free tickets to ZZ Top to wait for us. I still feel bad and it’s been 40 years!
The only thing missing from the comments so far is one from a proctological professional which says something like, "Mr. Barry - I was one of the medical team who conducted the exam you discuss here. (And yes, I am still a woman LOL.) A clarification, sir: MOST prostates are Tallahassee. Yours was of exceptional interest to all of us because it's closer to Opa Locka."
As a retired urologist, may I say I have never been more pleased to be retired.
This is almost, *almost*, as funny as the colonoscopy article you wrote several decades ago.
And you can't spell "tariffs" without "ffs".
Ffs; an excellent point.
Indeed; that article persuaded me to get two (2) colonoscopies, but after the second, my mail to the address below was returned as undeliverable:
Dave Barry Colonoscopy Inducement
The Miami Herald
1 Herald Plaza
Miami FL 33132
You are so f..ing funny you distracted me from the Fascistic dumpster fire we are experiencing. I laughed, loud and hard reading this gem, in a way I haven’t for a long, long time. I hope you live forever.
I came here to say that.
I don’t have festicles, but still found this hysterical. I will never look at Florida the same way again. Thanks for the laugh!
What about Alabama?
Not a surprise…..😳
(Banjo music intensifies)
I once experienced a prostate biopsy which I now refer to as my bi-ooopsy, because my urologist, who hailed from Romania, "forgot" what I no consider to be an important step in the prostate biopsy process; namely the anesthetic. 11 snips. At the time I truly believed he had inserted a swarm of rectal hornets. In the spirit of American male stoicism, I never told him...but I did go home and Google "Is Romania still a member of NATO?" just in case he had a beef.
"this will only hurt a bit"
"...eleven times..."
Umm, even for the group of knuckleheads, er, I mean, carefree spirits, who comment regularly on Dave's substack, this might've been TMI. Just sayin'. All of my insides puckered up noticeably when I read your comment.
MerryCatholic.substack.com
You think YOU'RE insides puckered up!!!
Oh, and “scrotal ultrasound” would be an awesome name for a heavy metal band!
I always find Dave Barry to be helpful on any topic, if my spit takes are any measure.
I have been examined and treated for infertility in my 30s and now for prostate cancer in my 70s. I no longer have any shame.
When I was 35, while being prepped for surgery to tie off a blood vessel to varicocele on my left festicle, I had my pubes shaved by a young woman who appeared to be about 16, and for some reason I wasn’t arrested.
I was hopped up on Valium.
I don’t know if she was medicated, but I hope so.
I have had loud public discussions with infertile male friends about sperm count and motility without caring who overheard.
A couple of years ago I had a biopsy of my prostate that somehow stimulated my vagus nerve, leaving me unable to move, alone and pants-less in the procedure room.
A young woman eventually found me helpless on the exam table and called the doc back in to rescue me.
Then you pee blood for a week.
After two of these procedures my advice is, if a urologist says the words “prostate biopsy”, run like hell.
Before anyone freaks out, 8 weeks of radiation therapy killed off the cancer and shrunk my prostate to the size of a raisin.
Almost two years later I’m still cancer free.
Oy.
You had me at the Gulf of Canada!
I scrolled through all of the comments for this. I knew someone else felt the same way.
I have the same problem with sher(r)iff. And prost(r)ate. But at least I don't have a prostate. Or festicles. Just chesticles.
This is the most informative article about tariffs that I have ever read!
The last time I had that procedure my doctor said, "Hold still. You're going to feel a little prick."
Wadeeli.substack.com.
"You may feel a little discomfort." AAAGHHHHHAAAAGHGHGH!
Ha ha good one!
“Can you stand up?”
No. The drugs are still doing what drugs do.
“I believe they’re working. Good.”
True story; my college roomie and I drove from El Paso to Miami for Spring Break. (Yes it does take more than a day to get out of Texas).
I got a lost in Tallahassee looking for the Interstate at 3 am. We stopped in a turn lane to look at the map (1986 technology).
The police stopped next to our car and asked what was going on. We told them and their reply?
“Get out of the middle of the street.” Then they drove off.
Thank you Tallahassee police for helping us find the South-bound Interstate.
Needless to say, we drove to Tampa on a non-Interstate road that scared me to death.
Southern hospitality is somewhat exaggerated when it comes to law enforcement. Yikes.
Yeah, that was the beginning of a strange trip. Sans chemical helpers.
I’m intrigued that it got even worse??
Not worse but weirder. I don’t blame Florida for what happened. My roomie was supposed to arrange a place for us to stay. I did not know that she’d just been invited to come on down by some guy and didn’t let him know that she intended to come visit. So there went our accommodations. We ended up sleeping in our rental car and showering at a gym in Ft Lauderdale.
Hijinx and a lot of alcohol ensued.
On our way back to Texas, we told my eldest bro that we were going to stop by. He lived north of Atlanta and our map didn’t show the best route.
We arrived hours late. We found out he gave up free tickets to ZZ Top to wait for us. I still feel bad and it’s been 40 years!
Genius stuff as always!
The only thing missing from the comments so far is one from a proctological professional which says something like, "Mr. Barry - I was one of the medical team who conducted the exam you discuss here. (And yes, I am still a woman LOL.) A clarification, sir: MOST prostates are Tallahassee. Yours was of exceptional interest to all of us because it's closer to Opa Locka."
Your column is more enjoyable than a prostate exam. Thanks!
True story: My ex-brother-in-law had a urologist named Dr. Baldoc.