Some may find this post to be TMI, as it talks about my health and some of areas of the body that some find inappropriate for conversation. I write about this in case others may have the same issue and are searching the Internet for similar experiences. If you don’t want to read about “my junk”, please feel free to go to Google and search for something more pleasant to read. I won’t be offended.
There are a couple of opinions as to why I’m about to talk about what I’m going to talk about. Some say that I was born with a birth defect. Others have told me that somehow inflicted some sort of trauma to this particular spot, maybe as the result of hitting the handlebars as a kid or something. Personally I wonder if aliens were involved and they got carried away with one of their experiments or something.
Whatever the case, the scar tissue has returned after a decade of behaving itself.
Curious as to what I’m talking about? Well, I discuss the last ‘bionics upgrade’ here, so I won’t get into the nitty gritty. The short version of the story is, scar tissue grows in my urethra and because of this, I find myself unable to urinate in a normal manner. All has been well until earlier this year, when my “stream” slowed down. A visit to the urologist confirmed that the scar tissue was returning. That occasion marked a first as it was the first time someone took an X-ray of my junk.
The difficulties have continued, so I had a follow up with the urologist today. After going the bathroom, some poking, prodding and measuring determined that I still had 850ml of urine left in my bladder.
That’s almost one liter!
So tomorrow morning, bright and early at 6:00 AM, I’m undergoing a repeat surgery of the procedures I had in 1982, 1986 and 2005. I’m hopeful that this will correct the issue for another decade. The urologist cautioned that if he can’t do what he did before that they’ll have to put in a catheter outside of my junk until they can do a different procedure. However, things are still working better than they did back in ’05, so I’m hopeful that it won’t come to that measure.
When he told me that he could do the surgery tomorrow I have to admit that I was relieved (no pun intended). I really want to get this taken care of so I can get on with my summer.
I’m happy that I only have to obsess about this for just 24 hours before the actual procedure.