A few months ago, I had a brush with death and stayed three days in the University of California Davis ER, resulting from having undergone a biopsy that became infected. Before I left U C Davis, a nurse stuck a catheter in me and strapped a heavy-duty plastic bag in which to catch urine around my leg. A week later I was at the Urology Clinic in the Sacramento VA Medical Center at Mather Field, California. A nurse took out the catheter and removed the bag from my leg. Then we waited, for up to six hours if necessary, to see if I could urinate normally. All morning I drank lots of water. If I could urinate by the afternoon, they would consider me healed and send me home catheter and bag free.
I spent about four hours slowly walking around and through the buildings at Mather. I was in no hurry. Drink some water, go outside, walk around, go inside, walk around, drink some more water, go outside, over and over. While strolling thus leisurely, I noticed some very attractive women. And I also noticed that, in general, most women looked more attractive than usual. But that afternoon, it turned out that I still couldn't urinate, and they put another catheter back in me and said to return in a week, when we'd try again.
A week later, having worn a catheter and a bag for the second straight week, I was back in the Urology Clinic. Again they took out the catheter, I drank water and waited to see if I could urinate. This time I could, and things looked hopeful that I could leave without wearing the catheter any more. While I was there, they decided to do a visual examination of my prostate. They planned to run a tube up my urethra with a tiny camera at the tip and see just how my prostate was obstructing my urethra.
While we were waiting for Doctor Shelley Godley, my urology doctor, I noticed Dr. Thiew, a resident doctor, preparing for the exam. He was a young man dressed in green hospital garb. He looked like an intelligent guy. On a chance, I asked him, "You ever hear of Bitcoin?"
He said, "Yes."
I asked, "You got any?"
He said, "No."
I was still in a somewhat giddy mood from that week's rise in Ethereum, and I enthusiastically told him. "Well, I've got some, and from a stake of five thousand dollars, I've made over a hundred thousand dollars in the past year on Ethereum alone!"
And once I got started, it was hard for me to stop. I further announced, "A year ago, I traded ten Bitcoins for 500 Ether, when Ether was around $11.00. Now it's above $200."
By this time, Dr. Godley and another woman, who seemed to be with her, entered the room. I continued with my happy story, since nobody seemed bored or interrupted. In fact, they all seemed interested.
"Last a week, Friday, Ethereum went from $100 to $130 in one day. That's a 30 percent increase. I made $15,000 last Friday, mostly lying in bed." I leaned back and smiled.
Dr. Godley looked interested, but I didn't have anything more to say and stopped talking. So, she brought the meeting back to its original purpose, and we prepared to begin inserting the seeing-eye catheter up my urethra.
In the examination room were Dr. Thiew, who seemed to be running the exam instrument, Dr. Godley, and the woman with her, who was a doctor there to give a second opinion. A fairly young female nurse, who did most of the preliminary work getting me ready for the doctors to examine, and a young male nurse, standing by to assist if needed, were also present.
Basically, I had a gown that covered my upper body and, across my abdomen, a sort of a covering for everything but my "privates." They were out in the open for all to see, and in the tip of my penis was the tube Dr. Thiew was pushing up my urethra. On a CRT screen, like a TV, we could see what my urethra and prostate looked like up close.
After the examination, the second-opinion doctor stated that I was clearly a case for a TURP operation that shaves away part of the prostate rather than the alternative method of stapling back any part of the prostate that obstructs the urethra. Dr. Godley agreed that I should have the TURP, and the second doctor left. At that point the two nurses, Dr. Thiew, Dr. Godley, and I were alone in the room.
I wanted to ask Dr. Godley a question.
One of the pills they were having me take is called Finasteride. The pharmacist had said it was to reduce the size of my prostate. When I mentioned this in an email to a retired doctor friend, with whom I still exchange emails, he told me Finasteride lowers testosterone. Testosterone is the male hormone. The more testosterone, the more problems with the prostate?
I half jokingly emailed back, "Lowers my testosterone, eh? I can use that. I'm becoming a little concerned. Girls are starting to look good, just about all of them."
But what could I do with the catheter in me? I told him I wanted to ask my young female urology doctor about it, but I didn't dare because it might embarrass her, and she might take offense. Very shortly after I sent the email, my friend called me on the phone and said, "Let's Skype."
I hung up and got on the Internet and we Skyped. The first thing he said when I could see his face was, "Tom, don't worry about embarrassing her. Nothing you can say can embarrass anyone who's been through medical school and who's now a practicing doctor."
So, after the examination, I figured here was my chance to ask Dr. Godley if she had any helpful suggestions.
I was still in the "exposed" position I had been in for the examination. As Dr. Godley prepared to leave, I said, "Doctor Godley, I'd like to ask you a question. A doctor friend said you wouldn't be embarrassed. But maybe we should talk in private?"
Dr. Godley straightened, looked me in the eye, and said, "Oh, no, you can talk freely. Go ahead. What's your question?"
I said, "Well, when I started preparing for the biopsy, I figured I'd better not do anything to aggravate my prostate. And I've had a catheter in me for the last two weeks. So, I haven't ejaculated in over a month, and girls are starting to look good to me—all of them." I looked down at the floor and then up at her and asked, "I'm just wondering, now that the catheter is out, can I ejaculate?"
"Oh, sure," she replied immediately, smiling.
As she turned to leave, I said, "Well, thank you. And thank you for not being embarrassed."
And at that moment, everyone in the room, except me, burst into loud laughter that lasted for several seconds.
What were they laughing at?
I'm a little hesitant to publish this writing on the Internet.
I'll leave it to the reader to decide. If this offends you, I'm sorry. You don't have to read it.
I figure either you believe in free speech, or you don't.
I'm making this a contest in which the prize is denominated in Bitcoin.
I will send .01 Bitcoin, one hundredth of a Bitcoin, to the public address
of the winner's choosing, the winner being the person who posts the best
answer as to why the people suddenly started laughing.
Who gets to pick the winner? I don't know yet. I'm new to Steemit and am still reading the FAQ's. Maybe I'll decide the best answer. Perhaps the answer that receives the most upvotes, if that's the correct term, should be the winner. Leave suggestions as to how you think the best answer should be decided. But if you want to have a chance of winning the hundredth of a Bitcoin, you must leave a comment about why they were laughing.
Somehow, the winner will be decided between Noon and One P.M. Pacific Standard Time (Daylight Savings if that's still in effect in October) on Thursday, October 19, 2017.
I shall return to this blog on October 19th, 2017 and announce the winner, unless Steemit has some rule against contests, or to do so would violate some state or federal statute or regulation. If you're still reading this, you may as well leave a comment and have a chance to win .01 Bitcoins. That's worth over 40 dollars today and will probably be worth more in a couple months. I plan to be "here" during that entire hour. If you wish to partake, be here sometime between noon and one o'clock. Someone will win some Bitcoin. And it won't be me. If I win, I'll give it to the second best answer.
That's it, until October 19, 2017. Peace.
I'll start. Here is my answer to the question. The reason they were laughing is because I seemed to talk so openly and freely about wide-ranging topics. I didn't seem to be embarrassed by anything I might say, but I didn't want to embarrass them. They were thinking something like, "This old coot. (I'm seventy-one.) He doesn't care what he says, or to whom he says it. But he's polite about it." Whether that's the right or wrong answer, it's funny to me. I can see someone laughing about that.
No, no, no. You're all wet. They're laughing at you because you're saying you're glad they're, or Dr. Godley's, not embarrassed. But they've done nothing to be embarrassed about. You're the one who normally should be embarrassed. You're getting close to the "M" word, which is even more of a third rail than Israel's control of US Middle East foreign policy. You're the one who's not embarrassed, but who possibly should be.
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