In the spring of 2019 I peed blood for a few days. (Okay, there was urine in there, too, but you know what I mean.) In the fall of that year I had a cystoscopy — a scope was forced through my urethra and into my bladder for a look see. They doc saw a tumor. A month or so later he went in with a larger rig (after they put me under) and cut out the tumor and dosed the area with a secret elixir.

Since then I’ve had six more cystoscopes with the same doctor, but a different nurse each time, because why not keep the embarrassment at a high level if you can, right? The last one on the regular schedule was this morning, and what the doctor saw with the camera he sent in was… bladder.

Which means my two year follow-ups are over and the tumor didn’t come back. Woot!

However, the doc suggested I think about a yearly look because catching one before it starts bleeding would be a good thing. I thought it over for a couple seconds and agreed. So every year right after Christmas I’ll go endure the indignity once again as part of my regular health checkups. It’s quick and relatively cheap here in the PHX area ($300-400). And since I know my body understands how to make cancer, keeping an eye on it makes sense to me.

If I’d had a cystoscopy up in Alaska, I’d have paid $2,400 for it. There’s apparently only one place that does it and that’s what they charge. Because they are dicks. You could fly to PHX, stay for a couple days in a hotel, have the thing done, and fly back home and pay less than $2,400 and get a TRIP out of the deal, to boot. Just come in the winter, because otherwise PHX heat *and* a scope up your you-know-what? That’s just too much.