Road test: Prostate Check

They’re two words that strike fear into the hearts of most men. But what really happens during an examination? Sydney jazz musician George Washingmachine finds out

Being married to a health journalist, I’ve been prodded and poked more times in the past two years than your average Aussie bloke is in a lifetime. I’ve had my blood tested for everything under the sun. I’ve had a small lump cut off my lower eyelid.  I’ve had sinoplasty on my upper palate to reduce snoring. And I’ve had teeth pulled and a snore guard fitted. I still snore, by the way, but the tone has definitely improved.

All this for peace of mind. My wife’s, mainly. Of course, she’d hate to admit it, but I feel great.

It came as a bit of a surprise, though, when she told me it was time to get my prostate checked. After all, I was only 47 and far too young and virile to bother with such nonsense. Besides, the plumbing worked just fine, thank you very much. 

“You’re going to have to get it done when you turn 50 anyway,” my wife reminded me. True. But being born in the days of analogue, I was reluctant to enter the digital age.

Still, I knew she was right. No point in putting it off. So I called up my GP of 18 years, Dr Patricia Walton (yes, fellas, my doctor is a woman) and made an appointment for a digital prostate check.

In the lead-up to the examination, I kept thinking of all this weird stuff. Would the doctor be able to get her finger in my bum? How painful would it be? Would she wear a torch on her head? Or a little camera on the end of her finger? Afterwards, would I walk like John Wayne?

And what if I got an erection? How embarrassing would that be? Would my doctor have a cold spoon on hand? Or worse still, what if she thought I was trying to crack on to her? I knew I was being paranoid, but the uneasy feelings lingered.

Nothing to fear but fear itself, I told myself bravely. Millions of men have this test done every year. Besides, there was no easy way out. You can’t exactly send a stunt-bum or a bum-double to these things. It has to be your own bum.

I tried to relax.

When D-day arrived (D for digital? D for date? D for “Don’t do it!”?) I was still reluctant. Why? This is a sensible, preventative test, I told myself sternly. Worse things could happen. Be a man.

As I sat in the waiting room, I realised the best doctor jokes in the world weren’t going to save me now. This was serious.

Then Dr Walton appeared. “Please come in.” Oh my God. I tried to feel relaxed.

We sat down and I asked a few probing questions about what the prostate is and what Dr Walton would be looking for (just to make sure she knew what she was doing).

She explained that the prostate is located below the bladder. Its primary job is to produce fluid that protects and enriches sperm. A healthy prostate is the size of a walnut, she said, and a doctor can examine it by inserting a gloved finger into your rectum.

OK. “Which finger will you use?” I asked tentatively. “And how far will you, ah, you know, stick it in?”

The pointy finger. As far as possible.

Gulp.

She asked whether I had any symptoms of an unhealthy prostate. Difficulty urinating?

“No.”

Dribbling?

“No.”

Urinating through the night?

“No.”

“Good. This will be a simple procedure, then,” she said. Easy for her to say. “Just remove your trousers and underpants.”

For a frantic moment I wondered if I was wearing those boxers my wife gave me – the ones with “I Wore These Yesterday” stamped all over them. No? Phew!

“Lie sideways up on the bed, place your bum on the towel and face the wall.” All those prison movies flashed before my eyes. “Now bend your knees. A little higher...”

For a fleeting moment, I felt like I was in a scrum with John Hopoate – not how I wanted to spend a Saturday morning. But it was all over in about 20 seconds.

Was it the end of the world? No. Uncomfortable? Yes. Embarrassing? A little. Did it give me peace of mind? Definitely.

My next check-up is in two years and, although I’m not exactly rushing to put it in my diary, I’m not breaking out in a cold sweat, either. I won’t be so worried next time around. It’ll be just like riding a bicycle. Only without the seat. 

Prostate cancer affects one in 11 Australian men. Some 10,000 will be diagnosed this year and it will kill 2600. If detected early, it can be successfully treated. Many experts recommend annual prostate exams for men over 50. The test can be performed by a GP and is covered by Medicare.