I'mmm Back!
Feb. 25th, 2009 04:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seymoureI want to tell you what happened, but just for safety's sake,
THE TALE OF THE AMAZING EXPLODING SCROTUM
by Peter "Boom Boom" Ballbomb.
In the last couple of weeks I have become worried about the pain I was experiencing in my left hip. It answered my awakening with agonizing trauma. (ME: "I want to get up" IT: "You can't stand up!" ME:Damn, that hurts" IT: (Evil laugh) ME: "It really hurts!" IT: "Suck it up, what's wrong with you?" etc.) Then Sunday morning last I limped in to do my usually morning toilet and while washing my beloved ballsack I noticed something that was, well, amiss(and when I say amiss, I certainly do not mean to say that I had grown a vagina or something). A lump the size of a Mango pitt had taken up residence there with the boys. While I don't mind the fellas having folks move over I thought Testaclese and Joyspheres should have sent me a memo. The lump did not hurt so much as it was tender, but I decided to see my doctor about it, since that's the kind of wimp I am. My good lady was of a like mind and so we set the first appointment that was available, that being Tuesday last. In the meantime the stranger within my funbag decided to move all his stuff in and now took up about the size of nearly a tennis ball. The substitute doctor (who would want to wait and share such a rare find with one's regular physician?) said we should go have my hip x-rayed and my visitor sono-gramed (To find out if it was a boy or a girl?) We quested to O.M.C. to do just that, and as my ladywife deposited me at the door and then went to park, I was suddenly aware that everything had changed. With a silent pop, I got the first visit from a family friend. Blood gushed with an attempt to fill both shoes with ruddy goodness. I stood, as Pam will tell you, with the smallest bit of shock on my face. We then gave up on the sono-gram and went to the emergency room. That day and the next featured every known medical person in this universe dropping by my room and giving 'em a squeeze, just to make sure that there was no brain matter left to lose. After that they decided to do a surgery and excise anything left. The infection had now rendered my scrotum the size of a soccer ball. This caused it's own problems. Since they couldn't insert a catheder, and they wanted to make sure I was putting out more liquid than I was taking in, I was to use one of those little plastic urinals. Getting up and walking with the tender orb in place was one thing, finding a way to make sure I got Herman into the tiny plastic thing without rupturing anything was another. This, of course, coming at a time when I had gotten up because I realized I needed to pee, then walked across the room at the raging speed of 1 mile a millinium, and then then fiddling with the device without accident would make a great gameshow in some demented universe not unlike ours. But I am home now and slept with my wife and only have to have IV antibiotics 3 times a day and have Pam stuff packing into the surgical hole twice a day (it started out being a strip of packing about 4 feet long, stuffed in with metal tweezers, only missing stabbing about every other stroke. Now it is less than one foot long and Pam does a better job than the young nurses who had no concept that there were nerve endings down there) O.M.C. actually, despite my rantings, did a great job and should be commended. But the most important thing is I am HOME!
THE TALE OF THE AMAZING EXPLODING SCROTUM
by Peter "Boom Boom" Ballbomb.
In the last couple of weeks I have become worried about the pain I was experiencing in my left hip. It answered my awakening with agonizing trauma. (ME: "I want to get up" IT: "You can't stand up!" ME:Damn, that hurts" IT: (Evil laugh) ME: "It really hurts!" IT: "Suck it up, what's wrong with you?" etc.) Then Sunday morning last I limped in to do my usually morning toilet and while washing my beloved ballsack I noticed something that was, well, amiss(and when I say amiss, I certainly do not mean to say that I had grown a vagina or something). A lump the size of a Mango pitt had taken up residence there with the boys. While I don't mind the fellas having folks move over I thought Testaclese and Joyspheres should have sent me a memo. The lump did not hurt so much as it was tender, but I decided to see my doctor about it, since that's the kind of wimp I am. My good lady was of a like mind and so we set the first appointment that was available, that being Tuesday last. In the meantime the stranger within my funbag decided to move all his stuff in and now took up about the size of nearly a tennis ball. The substitute doctor (who would want to wait and share such a rare find with one's regular physician?) said we should go have my hip x-rayed and my visitor sono-gramed (To find out if it was a boy or a girl?) We quested to O.M.C. to do just that, and as my ladywife deposited me at the door and then went to park, I was suddenly aware that everything had changed. With a silent pop, I got the first visit from a family friend. Blood gushed with an attempt to fill both shoes with ruddy goodness. I stood, as Pam will tell you, with the smallest bit of shock on my face. We then gave up on the sono-gram and went to the emergency room. That day and the next featured every known medical person in this universe dropping by my room and giving 'em a squeeze, just to make sure that there was no brain matter left to lose. After that they decided to do a surgery and excise anything left. The infection had now rendered my scrotum the size of a soccer ball. This caused it's own problems. Since they couldn't insert a catheder, and they wanted to make sure I was putting out more liquid than I was taking in, I was to use one of those little plastic urinals. Getting up and walking with the tender orb in place was one thing, finding a way to make sure I got Herman into the tiny plastic thing without rupturing anything was another. This, of course, coming at a time when I had gotten up because I realized I needed to pee, then walked across the room at the raging speed of 1 mile a millinium, and then then fiddling with the device without accident would make a great gameshow in some demented universe not unlike ours. But I am home now and slept with my wife and only have to have IV antibiotics 3 times a day and have Pam stuff packing into the surgical hole twice a day (it started out being a strip of packing about 4 feet long, stuffed in with metal tweezers, only missing stabbing about every other stroke. Now it is less than one foot long and Pam does a better job than the young nurses who had no concept that there were nerve endings down there) O.M.C. actually, despite my rantings, did a great job and should be commended. But the most important thing is I am HOME!
