I know what you're thinking. You're thinking "Phil, we've heard about the cancer tests, the anthrax pills, the indecent assaults, the suicide drugs and the cattle prod, but what's happened recently with your prostatitis?"
Well it's funny you should ask. As it happens, I actually took a break from circumnavigating Sussex today, and headed back to the urologist this morning. To be honest it was bad timing, because I had to attend a 'Mental Health Act Awareness Training' lecture at work this afternoon, and frankly forty-five minutes of that would anaesthetise you for virtually any procedure. I was almost catatonic by the end. But that wasn't until 3pm this afternoon. When I walked into the urology department at 11:30 this morning, I was fully awake and capable of feeling pain.
Since I first received an appointment letter in March, my consultant has been named as Mr Larner, and I've seen the same chap every time. Which is fantastic continuity of care. Or it would be if I'd actually been seeing the right man. I discovered this morning that the bloke I've been calling Mr Larner for the past six months is actually an underling whose name I can't pronounce. Mainly because I wasn't listening when they told me what it was.
Today, I finally got to meet the top man. And I know he's the top man because he took one look at my notes, shook his head, and told me I've been on completely the wrong treatment all this time. Apparently the four different antibiotics I've tried over the past two years will never eradicate the type of infection I've got (I'd explain why, but I didn't understand it myself), and I should have been given a different drug months ago.
So I'm now on Tamsulosin. For up to six months. Or I will be when I can get it from the chemist. Mr Larner's confident that within a few weeks I'll be pain-free for the first time since 2006. Unfortunately he also warned me that I have a 1-in-16 chance of experiencing this side effect. That's a blog post to look forward to.