Men’s Health Blog

I turned 40 this past summer: a formidable milestone in many ways, a time to say goodbye to youth's transgressions and welcome adulthood in its fullest sense. What better way to enter into my second forty years than to play out a scene from a favorite movie of my youth? Here’s a hint: quoting Irwin M. Fletcher, "using the whole fist, Doc?" Yes folks, I am referring to the fabulous, always enjoyable, fully invasive, this-may-be-a-bit-uncomfortable, prostate exam. That special moment in a man's life that gives new meaning to the word "vulnerability."

To add to my particular indignation was the twenty-something student playing tag-along with my doctor. It's one thing to mentally prepare for the old rubber glove treatment, the de facto kickoff to life's second half. But it really blows having that special moment witnessed by some punk thriving in the midst of post-teen, bullet-proof, immortality.

So the rubber glove snaps. The lube splats out of the tube. I search for a happy place. And I'm struck by a line I heard Ray Romano utter in a stand-up routine. In discussing this very topic he said, "I was afraid it was going to hurt...but I was more afraid that it wouldn’t." Well said, Raymond. Well said.

After the probe was all said and done, my prostate the proper size, or texture, or whatever the hell result they rummage for, I pulled up my pants and now, alone in the room, I looked in the mirror. For the first time in my life I didn't see that kid that used to drop trou on the dance floor to impress the ladies (Ok, not a great strategy in hindsight.) I saw a forty-year-old. A husband. A dad. I realized I was ready for the second half. That knowledge felt good and gave me confidence to embrace my life.

But my ass had just been violated in front of an audience. Such a thing lingers a bit, saps some of that confidence. If I may invoke Fletch once again, I felt like a hundred dollars. But a shower and a few weeks to dull the memory can do wonders. And you do what you need to do for yourself and your family. In forty-eight weeks or so I’ll be going back in for the annual treat. I say snap on the glove, grease it up, and bring it on. Just give me a little privacy next time.