**WARNING – This article is not for the weak stomach. It uses the word “testicle”. A lot. Testicle Testicle Testicle. There is also a scrotum involved.***
So I’m taking a shower, using the camel approach to treat my swollen testicle, which involves not looking at, or touching anything down there. I then made the mistake. I checked on it, lifting the jewels up while in the shower. Then I calmly freaked the fk out. My mother was outside of the room, and I didn’t want to scream at what I saw.
I turned off the shower, dried off, and tried to figure out how to let Mommy know what was going on. My mother is more of a person that prefers to listen to how you’re feeling than hear exactly what’s happening physically. I make it out of the bathroom, pick up the phone to call my nurse and calmly asked if she could come as quickly as possible.
“I think my testicle is about to burst open”
Perhaps I came off too strong. Mommy gasped and ran out of the room. That wasn’t what I expected.
I laid back and waited for the nurse to kick the door in with a doctor, a stretcher, a triage team, a priest, and maybe a couple of SWAT guys. After about 15 minutes the nurse came in (alone), and asked what was going on with my testicle.
“I don’t know, I looked at it in the shower and it’s…just look”
She looks at it and there is no deep look of concern on her face. Instead she says that she should get a sample, and walks out of the room, coming back a few minutes later with some cotton swabs that she uses to take a sample of the testicle juice. She puts the swabs into a tube, labeled with my name. She then asks me if I’m in pain, and if would I like a percocet.
“Well, no I’m not in pain. Is there going to be a doctor or something to look at this because..um…well, I mean my testicle is leaking. MY TESTICLE IS LEAKING! I don’t care about you taking a sample, but we should also address, perhaps as a team, that the patient’s testicle has sprung a leak, and the patient may be expecting some medical care other than a q-tip and a perkie.”
This is what I was thinking to say.
Instead I just whimpered
“No, I’m not in pain.”
And then she left. Not what I expected.
I cried myself to sleep with a towel between my legs, not knowing if I was going to wake up to a tangled mess hanging out of my scrotum.
The next day I wake up and the balls are still in the bag. How many guys wake up relieved at that fact? You really learn to appreciate things in a hospital. I have the doctors standing around me, and the head of the Whitecoats asks what happened last night with my scrotum. I show her what’s going on, fully prepared to be wheeled into emergency surgery and come out with a nickname like Half-sack, or Left-Nut. She, not so gently, pokes at my situation
“Hmm, abscess. That’s good. It should be fine.” – Not what I was expecting.
She takes a closer look, this time with a little more squeeze.
“Actually, I think we should have a urologist take a look” – Finally! This is what I was expecting!
The doctor team then shuffles out, and I feel a little bit of victory. They are going to bring in a ball-specialist to check out my, obviously not quite right, balls! Mommy makes it back to the hospital, and even asks how my “stuff” is doing. I let her know that all is still attached, without giving too much detail. That’s good enough for her.
Later that evening the urologist shows up, and how amped I am to see him. He gets to work checking me out. I must admit, I’ve never been so excited to have another man handling my testicles. I ask the doctor how likely it is that my right testicle will come out and he assures me that it’s just like a big pimple that’s draining. The testicle will not come through the scrotum. Sigh of relief.
“The abscess is mostly drained. I’m going to get the rest out.”
“Sure thing doc”
The urologist steps out of the room to get some materials, and mom comes back in. When he comes back he’s holding a lot of packages. I was thinking he would bring the same stuff one might use to squeeze out a big pimple. That’s what he said. A pimple. I use two fingers and maybe some tweezers on a pimple.
So why did he just pull out a needle? A big one. That’s when the nurse comes in and asks if I want morphine. Morphine?! I never needed morphine for any pimple that I had. What the heck is going on? Doctor lays out a towel, some vials, cotton swabs, alcohol, a testicle press, a gerbil. I begin to show some… anxiety.
Did I mention that Mommy has cleared the room already? I was now outnumbered.
“What’s the needle for doc?”
“Don’t be alarmed, I am going to numb the testicle.” – Those two sentences don’t really belong in the same breath. It came out of him as calmly as “I’ll have a side of ham with that omelet”.
My heart is in my throat, and I am looking for the easiest way to get out of the situation. It would involve dropkicking the doctor, shoving the nurse out of the way, and getting into the hallway. As I am only wearing a hospital gown, I will have to find some pants in the hallway somewhere. And underwear. Unfortunately I barely have enough muscle in my legs to stand, much less resort to my Kung-fu technique. I am stuck. And I am scared. This is not what I expected.
Then something in me relaxed, and I accepted what was happening. This guy wasn’t going to kill me, he was just going to stick a big needle into my testicle. It’s nothing new for him. I knew I would have a hell of a story to share when this was over.
I turned to the nurse
“I think I’ll go with that morphine, thank you.”
Then the needle went in. I did shriek. I did cry. The nurse held my hand, and told me things would be OK. I made it through.
Then the needle went in again. That was not what I expected.
Turned out he needed to do it about 4 times. I tell myself it’s because I have some exceptionally robust testicles. Well, at least the right one. Finally he’s either satisfied, or out of anesthetic, because he starts on the draining process. I don’t really have a great view of the bottom of my right testicle, nor do I have any feeling, so there’s nothing much to do but lie there and let the nurse squeeze my hand. I do know it involved a lot of scraping and squeezing. He’s done inside of about 10 minutes
“So Mr Brown, it’s drained, most of it had come out already. I recommend keeping this open to the air, and keep it dry. It should close up soon. Scrotums heal quickly.”
There’s a Jeopardy fact for you. Scrotums heal quickly. Time for me to take a look at the work.
I lean forward, and once again had to hold back from shrieking. My scrotum looked like the doctor had gone to town with a weed wacker on it. There was stuff hanging out that I really wasn’t sure if it should be there. I looked at the doctor and asked him if he was sure about that. He looked at my most recently betrayed jewels again…
“Actually, we can probably use some gauze. Nurse.”
I was left lying there with a bandaged scrotum, wondering if I could fall asleep before the morphine wore off. Mommy came back into the room, and asked how it went.
I have no idea of the answer she expected. No point in stressing her out.
“It’s done. Wasn’t so bad. I’m going to take a nap now.”
This was a big step in the transition. Acceptance that everything is not what you expect. I woke up with no pain. Mommy was still there. I’ll admit…that, I kinda expected.