An old mzee walked into the clinic. I asked his son to remain outside. 

He came with urinary complaints. He cannot hold, he has to rush to the gents. Otherwise he wets his pants enroute. 

At night he wakes up 5 times, everytime going back to bed not satisfied that he has completely voided. 

As is the case, he threw the lab and scan slips at me. As is the case I tossed them to the desk and faced him:
“Tell me your story first, we shall revisit these slips.”

He was hesitant, as is mostly the case, when I offered to examine his prostate. I understood. I reassured. He complied. 

Then off we went. Gloved fingers, lubricant and some toilet tissues in the ready. 

Usually patients are apprehensive. So was he. 

But when the doctor’s lubricated finger gets to the prostate and starts feeling for the size, the contuors and any errupting nodules, patients get uncomfortable. For those with an infection of the prostate (prostatitis), this discomfort graduates to true pain and the exam has to be truncated. 

The senior citizen here began laughing! He chuckled so infectiously that my colleague joined in the laughter. 

“Now let us look at these slips”, we got back to the beginning. 

“Hii kipimo ni ya ajabu!” 

He could not help but marvel at the crazy and invasive examination I had just performed. He complained why I was the only one doing this crazy thing. I loudly wondered why he was the only one doing the crazy laughing. 

It was a draw!

The chronicles of a village surgeon