I have health insurance.
Today, I ended a long and foolish bout with procrastination and got a physical.
I am 41 years old, and will be 42 in a little over a month. I have a lot to live for, including a wife and daughter I adore.
CRINGE ALERT FOR DUDES
A few months ago I started experiencing dull pain in my testicles, after a particularly brisk workout. The size and shape of them appeared to change somewhat suddenly as well.
I did the wrong thing, and hoped it would go away. I invented all sorts of reasons the pain might be benign while my subconscious fired for effect and created all sorts of lethal scenarios. It got to the point where the mention of Lance Armstrong sent me into a half hour of shoe-gazing contemplation.
Today I got poked, prodded, fondled and drained, and I'm happy to say that my "boys" are in splendid working order.
Yes, Dr. Jellyfinger did pay a visit, and those of you putting off a physical for this reason should heed my advice: get over it. It's a finger, in your butt. As Patton Oswalt said, "the human rectum is almost nightmarishly elastic." Weird, yes. Painful, no. And it's over in 10 seconds.
Apparently I have a fabulous prostate.
Hopefully my blood test will turn up nothing abnormal, and anything that is abnormal will be treatable. Who knows.
But I do know that I'm glad I went, and I'm grateful that I am insured, as those of us who are all should be. Please, if there are people in your life who love you and care about your well-being, and you are able to tend proactively to your health, do it for them. Get checked out regularly.
In that spirit, here are the toll-free numbers for House and Senate: