Things About The Journey That Force You To Laugh???

OK, so this wasn't too funny when it was happening, but in retrospect, it's kinda funny.

Yesterday, I got the results back from my six-month post-op PSA.  I had been waiting six days to hear from the doc.  My doctor's father is a retired doctor who helps out at her office.  He (the retired doc) called me and it went something like this:

Him: "Hello Thomas this is (so-and-so) and I have the results of your blood test.  Have you been taking your Lipitor?  Your cholesterol is up again."

Me:  "No and I told your daughter I wasn't taking it because I had a bad reaction -- what about the PSA??"
Him: "I'll get to that. Your HDL looks good, but your LDL is pretty high.  (He gives me the numbers) "Why did you stop taking the Lipitor?"
Me:  (Starting to get really nervous -- why is he holding out?) "I had aches and pains and when I stopped taking it they went away.  My sister had the same problem -- what about the PSA?"
Him:  "Do you have any Lipitor?
Me: "No, I'm out."
Him: "You're out?"
Me: (Ready to lose it) "WHAT about THE PSA??"
Him: "Oh, the PSA is undetectable."  (He says it almost as an aside.)
Me:  "What is it?"
Him: "It's less than 0.01  That's zero -- it's undetectable."
Me: "Oh, thank God!  Waiting has been a lot of fun."
Him:  "Do you want us to write a prescription for Lipitor?"
Me: "Do you have anything else I could try?"
Him:  "Maybe you should just take less of it."
Me: "Whatever, but just so I know for sure -- the PSA is fine, right?"
Him: (A little exasperated) "I'm gonna leave you a copy of the lab report up front with the prescription, OK?"
ME: "OK, thank you. Goodbye." (Wishing it was forever.)
Click.

Dave asked me to repost this in here. It was previously posted in the ED section and was a response to a member asking about experiences with the ED shot treatments. Hope you enjoy it. Doctor asked me if I wanted him to inject me in the office or just go home and do it myself. After a moment of reflection, I told him that about 45 years ago while in a 7th grade, a teacher made me to stand up in front of the class so she could see what I was hiding in my pocket. She obviously hadn't considered what my raging hormones were capable of putting in my pocket. I confided to the doctor that based on that earlier experience, at the age of 56, I'd rather not walk through an urologist’s waiting room with the same thing in my pocket that had been there in 7th grade and I preferred the self administered version at home. He warned me that some men find it difficult to inject themselves in this sensitive area the first time. I assured him that it wouldn't be a problem for me because I had done numerous stupid things in my life in order to have sex and stabbing myself in the penis with a needle wouldn't even make the top 10. Big talk, huh, -  I was apparently convincing enough though, because after he stopped laughing, he gave me a couple of "make sure you do this" orders and sent me home. Although I'd been thinking about the shot therapy for awhile, I had purposely not discussed it with my wife because previously, on more than one occasion, she had passed out while getting a shot. Although she's a trooper, I knew that once I shared the details about the therapy with her, neither of us would benefit by having an extended period of contemplation.  So, about four hours after arriving at home from the doctor’s office, I showed my wife the injection kit. While she was still dazed from the sight of the needle, I successfully coaxed her into the bedroom where she displayed her normal amount of eagerness and enthusiasm, which I'm confident is now generated out of loyalty more than expectation or exuberance. Meanwhile, I was in the bathroom wide eyed and naked in front of the mirror with a syringe in one hand and my helpless, not so promising looking Johnson in the other, trying to read instructions printed in 6 point type.  I must tell you that since puberty, I have not successfully kept many secrets from that little guy between my legs. Aware of my intent, he had assumed a self defense mode and was attempting, with some success, to shrink to a small size not previously seen. I remember looking down at the situation and thinking - "that needle will go clear thru it and come out the other side." Somehow I was able to compose myself long enough to maneuver the little guy, against his will, into a position that allowed me to plunge the needle in. Surprisingly, there was no pain, and as I injected the medication, he instantly quit struggling, looked up at me with an expression that seemed to be saying, "thank you". I joined my lovely bride in bed and the not so little guy showed his appreciation by providing my wife and me with the best couple of hours that we've had in a long time. --- Recovery is getting better-     

Thanks cedar!

Beachbum50

Cedar,
This is way off topic, but your Roy Rogers story reminded me of the following:
Roy Rogers had his faithful horse Trigger for nearly 30 years. When Trigger died, was he given a fancy funeral and a beautiful headstone over his grave? No - Roy had him stuffed and put in his museum.
Roy's loyal german shepard Bullet was 16 when he died - You guessed it...stuffed and put in the museum.
Roy Rogers may have been a hero, but..
I'm so glad that Dale Evans outlived him!

Best,
Mike

A year ago, our good friend Pianoman started this thread.  In Seeing Danman Bobs thread I am bumping this as there is a lot of good "material".  (I did not lock this nor know exactly why it was locked).

Tony