You'd Better Sit Down
When a doctor says this phrase, you know bad news is imminent. Today one of my friends / coworkers was telling me about some medical tests she needs to have done. Understandably, she was concerned. Even though she is a nurse, she is not immune from worrying about uncertain physical goings on. I asked her if she had gotten on the internet yet to diagnose herself and / or convince herself she had cancer. "Not yet," she said. That is what many of us do, however, we have symptoms, we find a medical website, do a few searches and convince ourselves we have only days or weeks to live.
A couple of years ago, I woke up at 5:00 AM one morning true to my daily routine. When I was taking a whiz first thing, I noted that my right testicle was tender. As the day progressed, so did the pain and the size of my right nut. About 11:00 AM I ducked into the bathroom to inspect the jewels and I could see the difference. The right one was the size of an egg. it would eventually grow to the size of a baseball. I am talking, having to walk bow legged large nut. I always thought I would want to have a big set of nads, but they only make the penis appear smaller. Had my nad stayed that big, I would likely have installed a tattoo saying: penises around this set of nuts may appear smaller than their actual size.
I was starting to get worried, I had seen horror movies start out like this. Maybe my nut had been inhabited by an alien life form or something. Talk about poetic justice - a man consumed by his own testicle. I decided I better get some help. As much as I hated to ask for help, having one of my balls explode was even more undesirable.
I asked my friend Susan, the nurse I mentioned above, what she thought. I guess I figured, since she was a nurse, she would also be a swollen testicle expert - she wasn't. Of course, anyone I told had a good laugh. (I hate it when people act like me to myself) After she quit laughing, she grabbed the rolodex and started calling urologists. I am not assertive on the phone. I had already called one doctor and they told me it would be two weeks before I could get an appointment. I couldn't believe the receptionist being so laissez faire about it, but then I realized she did not have testicles, much less one testicles growing out of control, "so what's the big deal?" Susan took charge and after talking to the third doctor, she found one who said I could come right over.
Now I am in the doctor's office. I drop trow and he confirms I have a "big ass" testicle. The next step is a testicular ultrasound. The only time I looked at an ultra sound was when John was floating around inside of Barbara. The technician was a man - who gave me no indication of what the heck was going on. One of the things about the ultra sound I did not like was having KY Jelly ladled all over my jewels. That stuff doesn't wipe off, I don't care how many boxes of Kleenex's they give me.
Next stop, back to exam room one to wait for the doctor to give me the verdict. I do not know about you, but I get bored sitting around in an exam room. I open cabinets and drawers to check out what's what. Getting caught by the doctor while rummaging through a drawer only adds excitement to the little game. So I check the place out, thumb through the old magazines two or three times and he finally graces me with his presence.
He explained it could be as simple as an infection or as serious as testicular cancer. He figured if it was an infection, it would get better with the meds he was going to prescribe me. They also took some blood for other tests. At any rate, I would not know what was going on until after the weekend.
I, being the internet / medical savvy person I am, began reading about giant right nuts. I had myself convinced I had testicular cancer. I was resigned to the fact I would lose said nut. I thought about my mortality. Now, I was not freaking out, but I had these thoughts going on. I hated dying so young and not being around to mentor my son further along the manhood highway. I had all sorts of things going on inside my head.
Monday rolled around and they repeated the ultrasound. I used another box of Kleenex wiping up KY Jelly. When it came time to move me back to the exam room, the nurse said, "Dr. Nutsack will see you in his office." She led me into a nice office. I sat on a leather couch and waited for the saw bones. He walked up to the doorway and stopped. He was reading a chart, my chart. Then after a few minutes, it seemed like hours, he walked, still reading to his desk. Then he began to write. I am waiting, scrutinizing his every move. Expecting him to stop writing at any moment and begin telling me about the nut removal surgery. I was ready with questions about prosthetic balls and everything. Finally, finally, he stopped writing. He looked at me and said in a matter of fact manner, "OK, I will need to see you again in six months. Everything is fine." WHAT? You make me wait in the office alone, then show up and build the suspense better than a Perry Mason episode, then you say, "everything is fine????" Of course, these were only thoughts. What I said was, "OK." Then I left.
All of that build up for nothing. I had a new lease on life. I was going to live and I was going to keep going through life with two balls as God intended it.
In retrospect, it was a fun time. Everyone at work was concerned. "Hey John, how's the right nut?" someone would ask. "Back to normal," I'd say. Barbara just shook her head. Something about me having no shame or something like that.
So maybe it is best to stay a little in the dark. Let your doctor shine the light a little at a time. Who am I fooling? I seek out information like a dog digs for a bone. It is just a new dimension we have to deal with where our health is concerned - lots of information.
I hope Susan's tests come out fine and we can all laugh like we did about my jumbo jewels.
Have a nice Thursday everyone.
Until the next time
John Strain
Wednesday, March 10, 2004 at 12:01AM 
I certainly did not intend to be offline this long. We stayed at a spa in Calistoga, CA and there were no phones in the rooms. I guesss they figured people wanted to get away from such things. It raised my stress though, I was going cold turkey with a sizeable blogging monkey on my back.
It is funny how birthdays change. This birthday was the first one for me since I began blogging. 24 different commenters wished me a happy birthday. Last year, I did not even know most of those people. I usually seed the environment at work a few weeks before my birthday. Then a day or two before, I remind everyone subtly. I will say something like, "When is my surprise party tomorrow?" or "Do you need to know any of my sizes or favorite colors for gifts? Then on my birthday, when people wish me happy birthday, I look surprised and say, "how did you know?" I figure this tactic is better than saying nothing and feeling sorry for myself all day, because no one knows it is my birthday. On the flip side, I want to know when it is my coworker's birthdays. I will throw in a few bucks for a cake. I write something funny on the card.