Some of you may recall an incident I had sometime last year involving my mysterious disappearing right testicle, which developed into a torsion. Well, I got the problem fixed (after fainting on the examniation table) and the world became a wonderful place again.
Oh, yeah. I was really supposed to have that little problem looked into by a urologist, because once it happens, the blood vessels are stretched adn are more prone to having it happen again. If cirulation to a testicle has been completely cut of for more than six hours, you’ve got one diamond still in the bag, along with a Cubic Zirconium knockoff.
Well, things came up that prevented me from having the problem looked at. Until today, that is. It started yesterday, withh just a little bit of pain and discomfort… By this morning, there were tears streiming from my eyes, and I couln’t sit down. An excruciating trip to the doctor led to partial relief, but he told me to go straight to the hospital to get a second opinion.
So I take another long ride to the place, wander up to the desk, and give my name. “Oh my God, it’s mister King,” says one, and the next thing I know I’ve got four people taking info, paging a doctor and making phone calls all over the building.
Two minutes later, one of the technicians says, “okay, Mr. King, Sue here is ready to take you to the OR.”
OR… Hmmmm… OR…
*OPERATING ROOM?!
“Operating room?” I say. I’m going to have surgery?"
“Well, put it this way. You’re going to get fixed.” Pause. “Oh my God. I’m sorry I said that.”
Less than fifteen minutes later, I’m flat on my back wearing a goiwn, getting an IV stuck into my arm. The next thing I know I’m done, so zonked with Demerol that I need to be wheelchaired out to wating friend’s car…
I am now the proud owner of a pair of “tacked ddown” testacles. I’lll be ready to test drive them in about two weeks.
How’s that for ann interesting day?
