This post...

runs a high risk of becoming preachy.

So I thought I would begin with some frivolity and light hearted updates.

Last night was the night I did my Address To A Haggis at a Burns supper. The Burns supper was....okay? I missed a couple of lines which was embarrassing, but I got paid which was nice. It all evened itself out.

I've also been knuckling down writing my comedy pilot which I'm really enjoying and finding my feet with. There's a good few places I'm gonna send it to. So it's really just a case of establishing the characters voices and finishing my script for episode 1. I also need to write a proper character description and a brief synopsis about what I hope to achieve. //pretention

So now the serious stuff. If you don't wanna read about anatomy of the male or be preached at, don't read it. Leave it at the haggis and the script.

So you've chosen to read on.

Then we shall begin.

Around tuesday I started feeling a pain in my boy parts. Parts implies that there are 2 of them. In the UK we're told that AS SOON AS YOU FEEL A PAIN THERE YOU HAVE TO SEE A DOCTOR BECAUSE IT MIGHT BE FATAL.

Now, I'll be honest. I've had pain on and off there for about 4 years and I've never done anything about it. Why? Well there is one obvious reason. But my mum thought it was that I didn't want anyone touching me there. I don't mind that if it's consensual (LOL) or in the interest of medicine.

No. The REAL reason is that I never wanted to sit down in front of someone only to be told that I'm ill. Who wants that? So rather stupidly, I've put it off for YEARS, because of the stated reason.

On tuesday, the pain became more apparent, to the point where it couldn't be ignored. So what did I do? I ignored it.

I went through tuesday in pain. On wednesday I decided that I couldn't ignore it any longer but I was too late to make an appointment with the doctors, so on thursday, my mother very kindly got me an appointment for the afternoon. So I thought okay, I'm-a go face the music and see what shit's going down. The night before, I knew I'd be seeing a doctor so couldn't sleep for the life of me. Everything plays over in your mind. As I've said in previous blogs, I have a habit of talking to myself to get to sleep. Even THAT wasn't helping.

So I went to see the doctor, pot of pee in hand and explained the situation to him and he did his business (had a grope) and said that there was nothing he could find.

Nothing.

4 years of worrying come to nothing.

Am I angry/sad/relieved/happy?! I don't have a clue. But there's nothing to worry about.

I know awareness has to be a key priority, fair enough. But people like me are total fearmongerers. During the swine-flu pandemic, I was on TOTAL tenterhooks. I had about 6 scares going OH SHITE I've got it. Mostly because I've got a scratchy throat. Total idiotic. So imagine the fear when we get told we have to go and see a doctor because there is probably a problem. SO FUCKING FRIGHTENING.

So I do worry and I do panic.

All I would say to people is if you think there's a problem - for the love of Liza, get it seen to! It may not even be anything to worry about. Look at me, 4 years down the line and apparently there's no apparent problem.

I think I'm relieved.

I am. BUT GET YOURSELF SEEN TO IF YOU THINK THERE'S A PROBLEM!

I say this out of nothing short of love.

Paul xx