For my very first pitting in all the years I’ve been a member, I pick Festride, also known as Propecia. Who is he, you ask, not recalling any doper with that handle? Not a he…not a she…(remember this at the end of the rant.
Finestride is a medication that can be used for hair loss - not a problem, as I’ve already lost mine. It is also used in BPH or benign prostatic hypertrophy, of which I am a practicing member. Basically, men take this to get hair or to make them able to urinate like they did as kids.
Once upon a time, long ago, I could write my name in printing on the sands - truly blessed, I was even able to dot the elusive “i” in my name. Admired by friends and family, little did I know what was in store. The first warning, not recognised, was that printing had fallen by the wayside, to be replaced with a rather nice cursive “hand” Of course avoiding the rain of head hair might have been the cause.
Entering my mature years, and no longer having hair to worry about, I realized that perhaps my secondary elimination functions had pretty much petered out. No longer able to whisk away the desire for a leak, I became adept at knowing the locations of all restroom facilities within running range. Modifications to my fluid intake prior to trips more than 2 miles away became the thing to do. Then I went to a Doctor.
Apparently, having been fascinated by my personality and totally unique medical problem, the cad said “Drop 'em and bend over” Well. I could see that somehow my condition had given him ideas! So, not knowing what social rules apply in this situation, I decided to forgo any banter or questions at that time, which made a lot of sense in that I wasn’t breathing.
“Ah, BPH!”, he exclaimed after far too much time…and explained that my prostate was nicely rounded (something I never expected to hear from some fellow standing behind me), and without lumps. I’m thinking…“Am I supposed to have lumps, or not?” He went on explaining as he, uh, withdrew. No lumps = good. Big - BHP.
So he gave me a prescription for Flomax. Was there ever a better name for a medication? It worked well for a number of years, and then decided that the work was too hard and the hours too long (see what I did there?), and became less effective.
So, on to a new Dr. Bend over, rinse and repeat. This young fellow decides that Fenistride (some organic poison brewed up in the depths of hell) was the one for me. Being an innocent, I took it, and for several months all went well. I fit into the regular rotation in men’s public restroom, needing only my share of time to accomplish my task at hand.
Then last week I noticed that my nipples were sore. Not paying too much attention, I figured that they had simply rubbed against my shirt as they did back in the days when I ran. Not the case. They remained sore, and then began to enlarge in the areolar area. Becoming curious, I parted the hair and examined them closely, something I’ve never done in six decades. Wow! I’m getting some growth there!
Mistakenly, I thought that I would get some sympathy if I asked some of my female members about breast stuff. After explaining my deeply disturbing condition, I was greeted with laughter, and unhelpful remarks about how now I should have more sympathy for my breastfeeding great niece (understandable) and other comments that I will not repeat from the other females, including my wife. So much for them, cruel women!
Now, Dear Reader, I like breasts. And I like areola, and I especially like puffy ones like mine…Aaarrrggghhh! On to the internet. Side effects of Finestride rarely include breast development. Gee thanks! And I didn’t even get any hair to appear on my head.
I have an emergency appointment with my Doctor tomorrow.