Female doctor phobia

I hadn't had a detailed medical check-up for many years, so when the opportunity arose recently through the bank that I work for it seemed like a good idea. I reckon health check-ups are more important as one gets older, so with some younger readers putting my age at 'the other end of the spectrum' from them, no doubt they'd think that I've been a bit remiss in leaving it so long! The check-up on offer takes around three hours, so I block out an entire morning in my work diary and book the appointment.

Before the day itself, a long questionnaire arrives which asks a lot of personal questions about my situation, medical condition and history. "Do you feel your relationship is stable and supportive? Yes/No". I tick both boxes, one for boyfriend P and one for boyfriend S. "How many units of alcohol do you typically drink in an average week? " Although I know what the recommended maximum intake is, I decide to answer honestly and see what they say!

Arriving at the health centre, I'm met by quite a cute physiologist who tells me that he'll be doing most of the tests on me.

"First I'll need to take some blood," he says with an enthusiastic smile on his face, "can you roll up your left sleeve for me?"

I knew this was coming, although I never enjoy the procedure. I start rolling up my sleeve hoping to get it over with as quickly as possible.

"Are you any good at phlebotomy?" I ask him, trying to sound knowledgeable by using a word that I learned a couple of years ago at the sexual health clinic. "I sometimes end up with nasty bruises afterwards :-("

"That tends to happen when they're rushing," he explains, "in a hospital for example when they're going round taking samples from dozens of different people!"

He gently prods the fleshy area on the inside of my elbow with his finger, but looks mildly upset so he asks me to roll up my other sleeve. On the inside of my right elbow he finds a particularly juicy vein.

"OWWW," I say, acting rather childishly but wanting him to understand that this isn't my favourite activity. However, within a few minutes it's all over.

"There, that wasn't too bad was it?"

During the course of the next hour he measures and tests me in a huge variety of ways. Vision, lung function, some fancy laser equipment to measure my anti-oxidant levels, urine, the only thing that he doesn't do is ask for a semen sample! And then it's time for a chat with the doctor.

"If you just go and sit back in the waiting area she'll be with you shortly," he says smiling at me again.

Immediately I take on board what he'd said. It's a female doctor. Which is fine for discussing most medical problems, but what if she wants to examine me downstairs or discuss male health? Although I'm very rational in almost everything I do, when it comes to discussing those issues with a female doctor I become a bit irrational and find it very hard. No doubt this is related to the fact that I prefer male therapists for massage.

In fact the chat with her is actually very useful.

"One of your liver enzymes is registering slightly above the recommended level," she says, "and that's probably related to the fact that you drink quite a lot of alcohol. Nothing to worry about at the moment, but it'll probably get worse if you carry on drinking as much as you do."

More interestingly, she links my alcohol intake with the fact that sometimes I don't sleep very well.

"If you drunk less, you would probably get better quality sleep."

Although a few glasses of top quality wine after work helps me relax, I realise that it might be worth drinking a bit less if I could sleep a bit better.

She then gets me to strip down to my undershorts and sit on the couch. Even though she's very professional, I start to feel uncomfortable. She examines me in various ways, including a thorough all-over prodding with a sharp instrument, no doubt to test my nerve reactions. Finally, at the end of the examination, she asks The Question:

"Are you comfortable with me examining your testicles for abnormalities?"

The immediate answer that comes into my head is No, but I know that I should say Yes. Of course, I've got a very good idea what loads of different guy's testicles feel like, including my own, so I would have spotted anything unusual wouldn't I? While I'm looking for the courage to say Yes, she speaks again:

"Or perhaps you examine yourself regularly?"

And of course, that's all the encouragement I need to decline.

"Errr, yes I do, so I guess you don't have to do it, but thanks anyway!"

The final part of the examination is back with the cute physiologist again for an ECG on my heart while riding an exercise bike. I guess a lot of the guys that he tests are not very fit because as the resistance increases he keeps telling me that it's about to become impossibly difficult, but no doubt because I go to the gym regularly I find it all relatively easy.

Overall I thought it was very useful. Lots of good advice, and if I want to do it again in a year or two they'll be able to give me advice based on how things have changed during the intervening period. However, although I'm not surprised that I didn't let the female doctor examine my equipment, I do wish that I could be more rational about that situation!