Peeing like in the good old days – going to the urologist, part 2

Recently, my colleague Martin Rupf wrote about his preventive visit to the urologist – and about the fact that many men are reluctant to go to the doctor, especially when there’s no urgent reason to do so. I, too, made a visit to the specialist a few months ago. Mind you, not out of prophylactic common sense, but because of an actual problem.

(Side note: Mum, I know you read everything I publish. Hence, my request: can you make an exception this one time and stop reading here? This article’s about my willy. Thank you!)

Age-related physical changes usually occur very slowly. For quite a while, you don’t notice them at all. Then, you notice them more and more. And, eventually, your fellow human beings do too.

«Can you not pee with me in the room?» my partner asked me one evening as she brushed her teeth. I was sat on the toilet – in her eyes, apparently just chillin’ – and was indeed peeing. But with so little pressure that it was inaudible. And that I’d already been at it for over a minute.

«I think I can’t quite pee properly anymore,» I answered. The fact that my urine stream had become weaker hadn’t escaped me. But when «weaker» turned into very obviously «weak», I bit the bullet and called the doctor the next morning.

«The blocker to open up your pee locker!»

«Look here, this is what it normally looks like,» the urologist said to me a few days later as he drew a parabola on a piece of paper. By «this» he meant the amount of urine a person passes when urinating, as well as the time it takes to do so; the curve rises quickly, remains at a high level for a short time, and then quickly drops again. And by «normally» he meant the people who don’t come to him for consults on this issue.

«Now, here’s what things look like in your case.» The doctor pointed to the printout from the device that had previously measured my urine output. On the paper was a shaky, long line – like the performance of a stable but not particularly successful stock.

I was given an alpha blocker to relax my prostate (the former copywriter in me couldn’t help but chuckle that it’s «the blocker to open up your pee locker!») Mind you, there was nothing wrong with my prostate – «It’s like a whippersnapper’s,» the urologist had attested during the examination. Prosty, as I’ve since come to affectionately term my organ, wasn’t overgrown, but still constricted my urethra. In addition, I was administered a strong painkiller. If you’ve ever had a video camera stuffed up your penis, you’ll understand why I was so grateful for it.

Full head of hair vs. powerful stream

A few days later, I went hiking with a friend. He’s about 15 years younger than me, so in his mid-thirties. As he peed there, his noisy jet forming a perfect parabola in the sunny autumn forest, I had an interesting new experience: I envied a man’s urine stream. «Hey, at least you’ve got a full head of hair,» my buddy grumbled after I told him about my limitation.

We continued onwards. He wanted to know if I really didn’t suffer any hair loss. No, I said, on the contrary; the hairdresser has to thin out my do each time because there’s too much of it. With blending scissors, I specified gleefully. «You bugger, with your full head of hair!» exclaimed my buddy. «You’re the bugger,» I retorted, «with your powerful stream!» We shared a hearty laugh.

Three weeks later, I returned to the urologist for a check-up. Again, he compared me to a youngster – but this time, his compliment was about the 35 millilitres I was releasing on average per second. He told me I could stop taking the alpha blocker on a regular basis, instead reaching for it only when needed. The pack should be big enough to last me a long time.

.. Will it, though? Recently, I stayed with my partner in the Zurich highlands at the lovely inn on Sternenberg. As she brushed her teeth, I stood in front of the urinal. Apparently for so long that she gently asked if it might be time to take my meds again.

I’m not ready for this!

Having to swallow a pill every day because part of my body has fallen apart due to old age is new to me. I’ve only seen my dad do so in order to regulate his blood pressure. Alas, now I have to regulate my urine flow pressure – just in the opposite direction. I recently also noticed a dark spot below my left eye on a video of myself. I mistook it for a smudge on the screen and tried to wipe it clean, but it remained there, moving in sync with my face. It was a laugh line, aka a euphemism for withered skin.

I guess I’m getting old. And I’m not ready for it. I feel 35 years old at most, and my sense of humour is that of an eight-year-old. «The way you lose it at the tiniest fart!» my partner exclaimed recently – which made me absolutely lose it right then and there. I consider joviality to be the highest state of mind and graciously accept any cause for it. Now, to find a way to incorporate one or the other age phenomenon ... that’s something I’m still working on. This article is my first step in that direction. With that, I – your bugger with a full head of hair – wish you all the best.