Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Monkey Wrenched

Testing, testing, one two three. Is this thing on? Check! Check! Check!
Ok, thank you all for being here this evening.



-----Disclaimer: Yes, I know it's not a male monkey.-----


The first items on the agenda are my testicles. As most of you know, I have no shame. My innards (and outwards) are pretty much an open book. What little humility I might have still possessed a short time ago evaporated in the wee hours of a Saturday morning, 2am or so, twenty-three days ago. I was hanging out, minding my own damn business, trying to remember what I had done that day to cause my coconuts to register such discontent. One minute I’m considering a dull ache, a moment later I’m in the trusty old fetal position. I have found that position to be a versatile maneuver for trying times. It has amazing analgesic properties. Anyway, knowing that my first-aid kit contained not a single remedy for testicular tribulation, I began the process of deciding which ER should have the displeasure of seeing me on their doorstep once again.

Shuffling bent over into the triage area, I was greeted by a check-in droid who could not have been old enough to drive, I guessed ten or eleven years old. She handed me the familiar form to fill out and asked me why I needed to see a doctor. I told her my nuts were hurting really bad and I asked her what I should put in the corresponding section of the form. I mercifully cut short her endless re-phrasing and dancing about the issue by bluntly telling her I would write, ‘my nuts hurt really bad.” She said ok.

She asked me to describe the pain on a scale of one to ten while directing my attention to the little placard on the wall. Every ER has one, ten little stick-figure faces illustrating severity of pain in ascending order. The face of level-one is sort of a baleful stare. Stick-figure number ten has tears flowing and a mouth drawn in a perfect “O.” The “O” is hospital code for scaring the shit out of the other patients with high pitched howling and uncontrollable sobbing. It is always a good idea to add at least two frowny faces to your score in these situations, trust me on that one. I pleaded a solid ten with breached bulkhead imminent and then prepared to disgrace myself for affect. I didn’t have to go that far because they weren’t very busy anyway.

While being wheeled to my curtained-off cubicle, I noted a consistent trend in the ER staff, more rosy-cheeked children, like a middle-school lunch room with kids running about in lab coats and scrubs. I also noticed there was not a single male employee in the bunch. I’ve said it before; I prefer a female urologist, or any ologist for that matter, when it comes to handling the tenderloins. Female “ologists” are naturally more empathic and gentle. This was a primary concern at that time because I was rapidly taking on the appearance of those red-assed monkeys on the Discovery Channel.

The ER physician turned out to be female, which was a good thing, but she looked even younger than the receptionist. She asked the obvious questions. I hadn’t been kicked in the nuts or paid for sex in the recent past. She read my chart and posed her questions with a distressingly pained look on her face. Her demeanor spoke of dark times to come. I feared her runaway sympathy might hinder a thorough administration of medical care and I was getting increasingly creeped out by her pigtails and knee socks. I was about to receive a digital inspection of my comically inflamed man-parts from Pippi Longstocking. The nurse who entered the room twice during the pre-prod setup awkwardly averted her gaze and stammered at my request for a drink of water. There was plenty of irony to share with everybody that evening, very strange.

Back to the business at hand, with my hospital gown hiked and the danger zone exposed, Doctor Longstocking advised me brace myself for a whole lot of hurt. For the first few seconds, I was thinking, that’s not so bad. I guess it took a while for the nerve endings to recover from the initial shock, and then, discomfort! It spread through my pelvic region, up the spinal cord, into the brain and on to whatever specific region is responsible for relaying the signals back down the spinal cord, through the pelvic region and right back where it started from.

The examination now complete, Doctor L told me to start breathing and she would order up some morphine. I told her I had to work the next day, refused the morphine because sometimes I’m a stupid f*cking idiot, and I opted for Tylenol instead. In short order, another baby-faced woman-child carted me into the ultrasound room and started treating my poor nadicles like billiard balls, batting them about with a gel-coated tool resembling a post-war Norelco Electric Shaver, at least from my contorted vantage point. I gave the ultrasound tech two options, morphine, or stampede. I didn’t want to scare my fellow patients, but it was out of my hands.

I think it was for punishment that they administered the morphine in the form of a meat-shot in the upper front part of my left leg. My kiwis quit hurting but the morphine never did dull the pain from the knot that formed at the injection site. It must have been opposite day at the ER, I prefer a certain level of logic in my world but I can make due with less.

I did get a diagnosis, doctors call it “Orchitis” I’m on the twenty-second day of a twenty-five day course of antibiotics, which of course means I haven’t crapped in twenty-two days but considering the alternative, I couldn’t be more thrilled.

Unfortunately, because of all of this, my spine doctor refused to administer a third and final spinal injection. My back was on the mend, only to be thrown a curve and left to fend for itself until this other situation clears up.

And this is the story of why I haven’t been blogging in the last several weeks. By the time I finish each day’s worth of desk and fieldwork in a desperate attempt to keep my little business afloat, and take care of all of the home-life chores that fall within my area of jurisdiction, the thought of spending even one more second at a keyboard has all the appeal of a bathtub full of squids, but without the fun parts.

Let’s check the score. According to my research, in the last twelve years I’ve had every malady known to medical science except for Distemper and Monkey Pox. I’ve noticed my monkey has been a little poxy today, so I might be able to cross that one off the list soon. Damn monkey pox!

35 Comments:

Blogger Judith said...

Slaggy
Youre poor Nads! Only a guy can truly sympathise the pain in which you have endured. Gentle vibes of healing to every part of your poor broken body..

6:44 AM, June 06, 2007  
Blogger Jazz said...

Since I don't have the nuts I can't really say I feel your pain, but I sympathise completely, since I remember the fetal position my brother took when I punched him there once. Poor Slag.

7:56 AM, June 06, 2007  
Blogger ian said...

It kind of reminds me of when I developed an...uh...infection right after my snipping. Yow.

Ian

8:16 AM, June 06, 2007  
Blogger Glamourpuss said...

"kicked in the nuts or paid for sex"

I believe those two things are very often intimately connected.

Good to have you back.

Puss

8:58 AM, June 06, 2007  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Judith, gentle is important to me these days. By the way, my next post will be a full accounting of all the good loot you sent to me. I haven’t opened the HP Sauce yet, but I will render judgment with an open mind.

Hi Jazz, getting punched in the nuts is a right of passage for all males. Better that it come from a family member than a total stranger.

Hi Ian, I hope you are talking about the “Big V,” and not the “Big C.” If it was a circumcision, and it happened late enough in life to retain memories of it, you are going to have to post a recounting of the horrors you endured. If it was a vasectomy, the details still should be made public. You can post it here in my blog if you don’t want to sully the good name of EDog’s Everything Page. I have no “good name” to worry about.

Hey Glamourpuss, that is pretty damn funny. By holding firm to the strictest interpretation of that statement, I can say that I’ve never paid for sex. But I have no trouble imagining those two events being connected by consent or otherwise.

10:21 AM, June 06, 2007  
Blogger Scott from Oregon said...

And here I thought something bad might have happened to you...

Just nuts, is all...

10:34 AM, June 06, 2007  
Blogger Evil Spock said...

Sometimes after long bike rides, I get a shooting, piercing pain in my testicles when I pee. I almost double over each time it happens and fall face first in the toilet. Someday I'm going to drown.

That would make an interesting obituary.

11:46 AM, June 06, 2007  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Scott, in the grand scheme of things, my nuts are fairly insignificant. I’ve suggested to the nut doctor that I could be persuaded to have them removed if the condition persists. He thought it was a bad idea but if my nadicles don’t shape up soon, measures will be taken. I’ve heard you can buy rubber nuts for dogs who have had their sacks emptied. If I end up with rubber nads, I’ll demand a pair the size of tennis balls.

Spaawwwwwwwwwwwwwwk, I narrowly escaped countless bowl plunges in my younger days due to morning wood. You have to brace yourself in the tripod configuration and make sure all three points are anchored securely to immovable objects before proceeding. I hope that helps.

1:05 PM, June 06, 2007  
Blogger Ego Super Omnia said...

hey slag! it's good to have you back man!

uff, that sounds like really hard stuff around the willie's jurisdiction! i've once had an infection too and it hurt like hell! when the doctor asked me what that was, and my mother was there, i HAD to reply "i have no idea how i got that!" :P luckily i got better after a couple of weeks, not anything like your case!

a couple of days more to go! hang on!

(Gonzie)

1:09 PM, June 06, 2007  
Blogger Big Brother said...

Since I was the one Jazz punched in the nuts, (she always was a feisty broad) I completely sympathize with your pain. The fetal position is sometimes the only solution. Hope you've finally got through your list of things that can go wrong.

1:17 PM, June 06, 2007  
Blogger Sarah said...

I have never been so glad to see a monkey lying prostate fiddling with its bits. I will never complain about your monkeys again Slag. It means you're back. That is good !! Sorry to hear about your nut problem - not one I've encountered before. As a girl I can only imagine your pain.Just like Judith, though, I send you gentle healing vibes. Welcome back. S

4:51 PM, June 06, 2007  
Blogger nic said...

Oh Slag,
Of all the parts to hurt. My son once had balanitus (sp?) when he was a wee baby-- his willy was swollen and red and if I even bumped it (whilst wiping/putting on a diaper) he would scream his head off. I felt terrible. It's just a bad place to have pain.

You have my deepest sympathy. But I'm glad to see you're back; I've missed your posts. :)

5:37 PM, June 06, 2007  
Anonymous Anonymrs. said...

Always a pleasure to read your blog.

8:04 PM, June 06, 2007  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hey Big Brother, to run across a ball puncher and the ball puncher’s victim on the same day should surprise me. It truly is a small world we live in.

Hi Sarah, thanks for the well-wishes and I especially want to say how pleased I am that you are willing to coexist peacefully with my monkeys. They mean no harm and they have much to teach us about…stuff.

Hi Nic, ball-itis sounds horrible. I’ve found that if the word ends in “itis,” you don’t want it anywhere near your tallywhacker.

Hi Anonymrs, thank you for your kind words.

10:09 PM, June 06, 2007  
Blogger Stucco said...

Brother, I feel your pain

And welcome back. You were missed.

11:11 PM, June 06, 2007  
Blogger Anne said...

I missed you, Slag! Glad you're back, hope you keep feeling better.

....they make prosthetic nuts for dogs???

12:54 PM, June 07, 2007  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Stucco, I still think of your “El Huevos” post when I see somebody eating Thousand Island Dressing, which doesn’t happen often where we live. It’s all about basil vinaigrette and salmon turd infused olive oil around here. Thanks for the welcome back.

Hey Anne, you can in fact purchase rubber dog nuts and I assume have them installed. My niece has a friend who has a rubber testicle that had to be changed to a larger size sometime around his fifteenth birthday. That’s something I never even considered the first time I heard of them. If they do take mine out as a result of all of this, instead of big ones, I think I’ll have four of them installed. :-)

8:42 PM, June 07, 2007  
Blogger Judith said...

If you do indeed get rubber ones make sure you get them liberally dusted with talcum powder or you could end up with sweaty ones ;0)

7:58 AM, June 08, 2007  
Blogger Gledwood said...

eeew i don't wanna think about this any more

3:05 PM, June 08, 2007  
Blogger Starrlight said...

OMFG, I don't even have nuts and I am holding mine in sympathy =(

9:10 PM, June 08, 2007  
Blogger Irene said...

Slag my friend, that just goes to show that you're indeed as NUTTY as they come. ;p

Am I glad WORK was the only reason I had to take a break from blogging!

10:30 PM, June 08, 2007  
Blogger Cheesy said...

"I think I’ll have four of them installed." CRIPES LMAO
Sorry you are having tallywacker luggage woes my friend...I'd offer a healing massage but

#1 Jilly would KICK my arse

#2 Then YOU would lol

So I'll just send healing hippy chick vibes...
Welcome back friend

8:55 AM, June 09, 2007  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Starrlight, nuts do have their downside. Thanks for the sympathy grope.

Hey Irene, the irony of it all is the unfortunate fact that I can’t eat nuts, allergic to them.

Hi Cheesy, I can use all the hippy chick healing vibes I can get. And don’t worry, we are not the arse kicking kind.

6:33 PM, June 09, 2007  
Blogger Whippersnapper said...

Goddamnit, I just left a really long message and it *poof* disappeared. And now my baby is crying. I'll be back.

9:52 PM, June 09, 2007  
Blogger Ego Super Omnia said...

How are you nut going?!

(Gonzie)

4:11 PM, June 10, 2007  
Blogger Kara said...

You've had everything???? Shoot. Sars? Bird Flu? Splinters? Black Death? Tonsilitis? Eczema?

I'm just glad you're back. Jill's a peach, but we needed your darkness to counterbalance her light.

Peace out homeskillet.

7:01 PM, June 10, 2007  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Whippersnapper, I got tired of that happening to me so I started writing everything in Word before posting. As an added bonus, the grammar and spell checker makes life a lot less stressful for a semi-literate buffoon such as myself.

Hey Gonzie, my nuts are going downtown brother. And I mean that in the worst possible sense of the term. I am getting used to it though. I learned a lesson about pain decades ago. I’ll post that lesson soon.

Hi Kara, SARS is on my list of things to do. I’ll get to it as fast as I can. It’s funny you mention my counterbalance to sweet Jilly, that is exactly how we live our lives pretty much every day. She’s the brains of the outfit; I’m the dunderhead. It’s also eerily prescient that you mention peaches. It is almost peach picking time down here and we just happen to be gearing up for the annual harvest that will fuel a steady supply of cobblers and pies until peach picking time next year. The operative words here are vacuum packing and freezing. And it seems you’ve scored a hat trick with your reference to “homeskillet.” I just happen to live in a home and I cooked dinner in a skillet only two short hours ago. You’re freaking me out man!

10:56 PM, June 10, 2007  
Blogger Whippersnapper said...

Anyway, as I was trying to say: The guy I live with had orchitis (I think... the symptoms sound the same anyway.) I didn't get too much information on the examination. He just slunk out of the house and two hours later slunk back in with an $80 bottle of antibiotics. When I asked him how it went, all I got was an unhappy, "He held them for a really long time..."

He thought this post was hilarious, by the way, and so did I. So glad you're back! You were definitely missed.

10:05 AM, June 11, 2007  
Blogger Anne said...

"If they do take mine out as a result of all of this, instead of big ones, I think I’ll have four of them installed."
Why is that? Spares? Will you need to have them rotated?

1:06 PM, June 11, 2007  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Whippersnapper, they held mine for way too long too. I was thinking, what else could you possibly hope to gain by hanging on to them like that. They’re red, they hurt, now give them back to me. By the way, thanks for your kind words.

Hey Anne, “rotated?” That my friend was a stroke of comic genius. I could kick myself in the nuts for not thinking of it first. ;-)

2:52 AM, June 12, 2007  
Blogger Anne said...

Heh. Sometimes I'm funny. But most times I'm just weird.

1:06 PM, June 14, 2007  
Blogger skinnylittleblonde said...

OMG Slag...you have been through the ringer!
I hope you're feeling a little bit better now!
Just be glad that they only used the ultrasound on your balls & not the mammogram machine. It could always be worse.

7:27 PM, June 18, 2007  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Anne, I didn’t notice your comment earlier, sorry about that. As far as the weird thing goes, I think that might be the common thread between all of us.

Hey Skinny, holy freaking mother of Zeus! I’ve been told of the mammo-machine, I think they would have had to hit me on the head with a hammer before getting close to my luggage with that thing.

10:30 PM, June 18, 2007  
Blogger Orhan Kahn said...

‘my nuts hurt really bad.'

I lol'd.

6:19 AM, June 30, 2007  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hey Orhan, it took a few days to put it in perspective, but as usual, I saw the humor in it too.

12:55 AM, July 02, 2007  

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