Urology appointment today and supposedly I’m all clear. Clean urine, perfect prostrate, no X, no Y, no Z. Urologist obviously had no clue what happened to me, but devoid of other symptoms and good exam had to let me walk out of his office. I got a mild suggestion of Motrin from him. So hmmm, I believe my 11 year old could have mustered that suggestion up.
So anyway, brave face and all that. I texted Jennifer that the Urologist said it wasn’t clinically significant unless it happened with at least three women. I got a LMAO back. She’s so wonderful.
See in the moment it happened I wasn’t really thinking about it all. But in the days after it, the mouse wheel of thoughts just kept going around and around. What if I can’t. What if it’s really serious. What if that turned out to be the very last time together. I don’t think Jennifer could live with a sexless marriage anymore than I would. She would try, heroically, but I just don’t know. So what if what if what if….
I’d just be a completely different person if I couldn’t have sex.
Anyway, this was all a major distraction and emotional time sink. I’m still a little spooked by it. So logging off for some gentle low frills sex. Get right back on the horse and all that. (Oh that sounded wrong didn’t it…)