Extract page
This
Chapter never made it into the book, enjoy the
section!!
"........Once
home I retired to the bedroom, put on Sky Sports and
started to get some capital out of the situation. I
was brought a cup of coffee initially and then
actually asked what I wanted for tea later. Perhaps
a few days laid up won’t be too bad after all I
thought. The kids were both brought in and told that
‘Daddy had a sore tummy’ and hadn’t to be
‘jumped on or bothered’ for a few days, things
were looking up but it was all about to go
pair-shaped, literally.
By
teatime I was experiencing some mild discomfort but
nothing untoward really. I was returning to the
sanctuary of my pit when I felt a sharp tugging pain
in the right hand side of my groin, thinking little
of it I gingerly manoeuvred myself back into bed.
Within five minutes the mild ache was beginning to
develop into a distinct pain focused in my right
bollock. Being naturally inquisitive I lifted the
covers to inspect my jewels. I was not prepared for
the sight which greeted me, my right hand testicle
had swollen alarmingly and turned purple. I shouted
for the wife to come.
By
the time my better half had put down the telephone
the pain was becoming unbearable and my bollock was
huge. She looked under the covers probably thinking
I was being a wimp again,
“My
God, how long has it been like that?”
“Ohh..
arrgh…ten minutes, get the Doctor quick” I was
almost in tears, the pain was excruciating by now,
not only that but the purple swelling was spreading.
As
the minutes ticked away the haemorrhage filled my
scrotum, it took on the appearance of
conjoined aubergines. Worse was to come however
as the bleeding obviously carried on resulting in
the discolouration of further tissue, this went on
to include my willy which also swelled ending up
like a black pudding. The pain then increased
further as the haematoma spread into my abdomen,
this was the worst part by far. The obese, blackened
wedding tackle definitely hurt but the problem just
above it had me climbing the walls.
Thankfully
the Doctor arrived promptly, after delving into my
nether regions, poking and prodding at random he
confirmed a scrotal haematoma had taken place. I was
given some co-codamol tablets which I consumed with
vigour throughout the coming night. The pain was at
least dulled and the swelling did stop around
midnight. The deep wine coloured staining in my
groin spread incessantly though.
At
this point it is worth considering the thoughts any
readers thinking of undergoing this procedure.
I’ve been assured by my own Doctor and two
Consultants that this type of post-operative
bleeding is very rare. A ballpark figure of around
one in two hundred has been mentioned. This may well
give potential ‘snippees’ some consolation but I
can assure you it’s absolutely none at all when
your genitals take on gargantuan proportions coupled
with excruciating pain. So if you’re thinking
about it I wish you all the best, the stats say it
won’t happen but if it does you’ve been warned.
The
following morning the Doctor returned and after
further prodding suggested we contacted the
Consultant about the item. His response was to
recall me for examination and possible surgery. Now
this sounded encouraging but the thought of getting
out of bed and being transported for an hour in the
car wasn’t very appealing I can tell you, where
would I suspend my gigantic purple knackers in
transit?
I
managed to struggle out to the car cradling the
scrotal conflagration in both hands although it
might have been easier to shovel it all into a
wheelbarrow and push it ahead, I was in agony. The
journey wasn’t much fun either, the wife strangely
enough couldn’t get another day off work so her
father took me. The one thing I needed was
transported at minimal pace with no harsh breaking
or severe cornering, no chance with the ‘ex-motor
sport driver’ father-in-law. Each twist, turn,
sway and screeching halt brought on further agony.
I’ve never been as glad to escape from any car,
even those early days when I tried to teach the
wife, then girlfriend, to drive. I made it sore but
unscathed, to hospital once more.
As
I approached the main foyer of the hospital I tried
walking without my two-handed supporting role, apart
from hurting too much I felt the John Wayne look
wasn’t for me. I resorted to the cradle pose again
and stuff the funny looks. Finding my Ward was
literally a ball-ache, by the time I got there I
felt sick with pain.
I
pushed open the double swing doors and advanced
towards the nurse’s station. The duty Sister was
on the phone, I took up a two handed braced position
against the desk. A porter came past, obviously
noticing my discomfort he stopped,
“Are
you okay there?”
“Not
too bad thanks” bravado took over, “could you
just make sure the horse gets a drink for me”
“No
problem Kimusabi” he smirked “ remember no
shooting the Indians, some of them are doctors”
“I’ll
try not to, thanks”
By
now the Sister had finished on the phone and had
already got my details out. I was escorted into an
examination room, asked to strip down and await the
Consultant. I couldn’t undress myself so she
helped, I held the beast, and she peeled off the
clothes. If I wasn’t in such pain I’d have been
embarrassed.
I
laid on the table, legs splayed open with the
throbbing genital mass now at relative ease with
itself. I opened my eyes to see the Consultant
entering the room,
“By
that’s a fine fettle lad” was his opening remark
“looks painful”
“Aye,
it’s seen better times” I hoped to appease him
before he began prodding “ any chance of getting
rid of the pain and colour but keeping the
swelling?”
“I’m
afraid not, I’ll be back in minute” he nodded to
the Sister and smiled “don’t run off now”
He
returned some ten minutes later with three other,
younger colleagues. They then began to examine and
discuss my outsized genitalia, these were obviously
students of some sort, and I felt like a Christmas
turkey. The decision was taken that my scrotum
needed to be drained. This would involve the bag
being slit open cleaned out and a vacuum drain
inserted. I would then spend two or three days in
hospital following by a number of weeks recovering.
So much for getting back to work inside a week like
everyone else I know who’d been
snipped......."
|
