The last thing up my ass was easier to take than I had anticipated. The urologist's rectal ultrasonic probe was only as big as my little finger. But that was only part of the experience.
It really started yesterday, when I began to take the antibiotic the doc had prescribed. The point here is to have antibiotics already in the blood to kill the bacteria that come from firing a needle through the wall of the rectum and into my prostate a dozen times. The urologist underlined that should any sign of infection, like fever or chills develop I was to call for advice immediately. This, he said, was the most dangerous complication of the procedure.
So starting on the antibiotics felt sort of like a concrete commitment to the procedure and all that might follow. Just taking the first pill was a bit sobering all by itself.
This morning another concrete step. A fleet enema to clean out the rectum, again to reduce the risk of infection. Have not done that to myself for a while. Remarkably effective at its job....
Then the trip to the office. I'd usually ride my bike, but I bouncing around on a bicycle seat might be a bad idea -- so I looked up the bus schedules and found a reasonable route.
Now I'm at the office. Everyone is very polite and efficient. I'm offered the "informed consent" form where I acknowledge that I've been told that infection, bleeding, even death are possible, but rare, with this procedure. I sign. Do I have a choice?
Then the nurse tells me to disrobe from the waist down, and lie on my back under one of those paper sheets as she reviews my identity to be sure the specimen containers are properly marked. Soon the urologist enters, smiling, offering his hand, reviewing that I've done all the preparations and we can proceed. Right.
Lying now on my left side, knees bent, I'm glad the probe is small and painless. First step is a measurement of the prostate size. "Big," he says. Yeah -- we knew that. "Now I'm going to inject the anesthetic..." which, at least in the dental office, usually hurts. Not so bad here. Maybe I'm not so sensitive back there as I feared. I begin to think this might be a good thing.
"OK, I'm going to take the first sample..." and a click of the instrument he's manipulating. A pinch, not sharp, more like a thump. But then the sensation grows and makes me feel a little sore, sort of like being punched in the shoulder. "And this is the next one...." Same thing. But by the time the third is done, I'm wondering if I am going to be gritting my teeth for the twelfth. The discomfort was sort of cumulative, and I could feel him repositioning for each shot and wondering if it was going to be worse than the last. The doc and I were conducting a bit of a conversation, however, and by the ninth sample I had actually lost count. When the last came, I thought it had not so bad after all.
"That's it -- I'm removing the probe." And then we chatted a bit more. My prostate had measured at 118 grams -- 3-4 times normal size. But there was no obvious evidence of abnormality within it. It's size alone might be responsible for my high PSA readings. As well, there is the possibility of a low grade chronic prostate infection elevating the PSA measurement. And regular bicycle riding might raise the PSA some as well. In any case, next week, he said, we'd have the results and he'd call. And, congratulating me on being willing to undergo the biopsy and see what the results might be, he was gone.
The nurse said I could get dressed and suggested I put a gauze pad between my cheeks to catch any blood that might otherwise stain my underwear. Yea -- blood in bowel movements, in urine, and in ejaculate are to be expected. And one LPSG fellow here has added that the first orgasm he had post biopsy was very painful...
All in all I was out in 15 minutes, feeling that I'd taken the big step, and no bad news so far. We'd see what the lab had to say next week.
And then the anesthetic started to wear off.
What no one had warned me of was a funny burning pain, not unbearable, but very definitely in the poor, beat up prostate. It was accompanied by a strong feeling of need to urinate. The same sort of symptoms I'd had years ago with an acute prostate infection (cause never determined). I was walking a bit slowly, even gingerly, and congratulating myself on selecting the bus for transportation.
Bus home. Uncomfortable, but not bad. Actually better walking than sitting. Took some Tylenol, urinated (no blood -- cool) and did some computer work.
Four hours later, situation similar, but I feel pretty sure that I will have a reasonable night and be able to go to work in the morning. Tomorrow is the last day of antibiotics. Then, all that remains is to hear about the lab results....
I hope this detail has not been overkill. I put it out there because no one who has described their own prostate biopsy told me what to expect in the hours afterward. Basically an annoying, but not intolerable experience. I'll let you know what I feel about this tomorrow.
Thanks for all the support you all have offered. We'll see what the future brings.
It really started yesterday, when I began to take the antibiotic the doc had prescribed. The point here is to have antibiotics already in the blood to kill the bacteria that come from firing a needle through the wall of the rectum and into my prostate a dozen times. The urologist underlined that should any sign of infection, like fever or chills develop I was to call for advice immediately. This, he said, was the most dangerous complication of the procedure.
So starting on the antibiotics felt sort of like a concrete commitment to the procedure and all that might follow. Just taking the first pill was a bit sobering all by itself.
This morning another concrete step. A fleet enema to clean out the rectum, again to reduce the risk of infection. Have not done that to myself for a while. Remarkably effective at its job....
Then the trip to the office. I'd usually ride my bike, but I bouncing around on a bicycle seat might be a bad idea -- so I looked up the bus schedules and found a reasonable route.
Now I'm at the office. Everyone is very polite and efficient. I'm offered the "informed consent" form where I acknowledge that I've been told that infection, bleeding, even death are possible, but rare, with this procedure. I sign. Do I have a choice?
Then the nurse tells me to disrobe from the waist down, and lie on my back under one of those paper sheets as she reviews my identity to be sure the specimen containers are properly marked. Soon the urologist enters, smiling, offering his hand, reviewing that I've done all the preparations and we can proceed. Right.
Lying now on my left side, knees bent, I'm glad the probe is small and painless. First step is a measurement of the prostate size. "Big," he says. Yeah -- we knew that. "Now I'm going to inject the anesthetic..." which, at least in the dental office, usually hurts. Not so bad here. Maybe I'm not so sensitive back there as I feared. I begin to think this might be a good thing.
"OK, I'm going to take the first sample..." and a click of the instrument he's manipulating. A pinch, not sharp, more like a thump. But then the sensation grows and makes me feel a little sore, sort of like being punched in the shoulder. "And this is the next one...." Same thing. But by the time the third is done, I'm wondering if I am going to be gritting my teeth for the twelfth. The discomfort was sort of cumulative, and I could feel him repositioning for each shot and wondering if it was going to be worse than the last. The doc and I were conducting a bit of a conversation, however, and by the ninth sample I had actually lost count. When the last came, I thought it had not so bad after all.
"That's it -- I'm removing the probe." And then we chatted a bit more. My prostate had measured at 118 grams -- 3-4 times normal size. But there was no obvious evidence of abnormality within it. It's size alone might be responsible for my high PSA readings. As well, there is the possibility of a low grade chronic prostate infection elevating the PSA measurement. And regular bicycle riding might raise the PSA some as well. In any case, next week, he said, we'd have the results and he'd call. And, congratulating me on being willing to undergo the biopsy and see what the results might be, he was gone.
The nurse said I could get dressed and suggested I put a gauze pad between my cheeks to catch any blood that might otherwise stain my underwear. Yea -- blood in bowel movements, in urine, and in ejaculate are to be expected. And one LPSG fellow here has added that the first orgasm he had post biopsy was very painful...
All in all I was out in 15 minutes, feeling that I'd taken the big step, and no bad news so far. We'd see what the lab had to say next week.
And then the anesthetic started to wear off.
What no one had warned me of was a funny burning pain, not unbearable, but very definitely in the poor, beat up prostate. It was accompanied by a strong feeling of need to urinate. The same sort of symptoms I'd had years ago with an acute prostate infection (cause never determined). I was walking a bit slowly, even gingerly, and congratulating myself on selecting the bus for transportation.
Bus home. Uncomfortable, but not bad. Actually better walking than sitting. Took some Tylenol, urinated (no blood -- cool) and did some computer work.
Four hours later, situation similar, but I feel pretty sure that I will have a reasonable night and be able to go to work in the morning. Tomorrow is the last day of antibiotics. Then, all that remains is to hear about the lab results....
I hope this detail has not been overkill. I put it out there because no one who has described their own prostate biopsy told me what to expect in the hours afterward. Basically an annoying, but not intolerable experience. I'll let you know what I feel about this tomorrow.
Thanks for all the support you all have offered. We'll see what the future brings.
