Monday, March 1, 2010

I'd give my right nut...

Now this is a saying I have commonly used in the past, and this last weekend I wish I had followed through at some point with this offer. Now most people, normal people, probably wouldn't write this entry, but I'm going to for two reasons. First that if it happens to someone else, it might come up in a Google search under "my testicle hurts" or something similar and offer practical realistic diagnosis of the problem without scaring the bejeezus out of them like most medical internet searches, and that those who know me will most likely find a good deal of comedy in my misfortune. If you are uncomfortable reading about male anatomy or you're a close relative and are uncomfortable reading about MY anatomy, this is probably a good place to stop reading.

So on returning from our trek on Wednesday night I felt fairly good. At some point on Thursday I developed a slight ache in the ol sack, and chalked it up to reduced sexual activity due to the recent running around in the woods. By Friday it was becoming more noticeable, and while chasing around Pradip trying to get a parcel at the post office, I was starting to be in full on pain. That night after a short visit to Pradip's house I spent the rest of the night in bed. I wasn't in pain as long as I wasn't standing or walking.

So Saturday morning rolls around and I wake up feeling fine. I get up, happy that the pain has passed and go sit at the kitchen table to check my e-mail and the news. Then all of a sudden I realize, not only has the pain not gone away, but my right nut feels like someone just swatted it, hard. This sent me reeling back into bed, my hand pounding against the concrete wall, as if punching the wall will somehow transfer my pain to this inanimate object. After what seems like too long, the pain subsides, and I feel fine as long as I just lay down.

Now there aren't too many things that make me nervous as far as being messed up. My eyes, most internal organs and the package down below are about the only things that are gonna make me think twice about going to see a doctor, that's the stuff I don't want messed up. Now sitting in a bed in a foreign country I have one of the above, and maybe the one that is hardest to talk about due to modesty issues, in trouble. My hope is that it's just an infection, that will pass. Kim thinks I should take some pain relievers, drink tequila and go see a doctor. I take something for the inflammation and pain, but decide to hold out on the other two suggestions. Kim just shakes her head. For all her good qualities, nurturing, sympathy and pampering the sick are not among them. Kim just sings the AC/DC song Who's got big balls? I inform her that it would be a shame if I were ever crippled as I would most likely die of neglect. She tells me to suck it up.

So Saturday comes and goes. I wake up Sunday and a short walk to the bathroom informs me that things are no better. I'm now starting to get concerned, and I am considering going to see a doctor. The problem is that Sunday is a holiday called Holi. During this holiday people add this colored dust stuff to water and throw it at each other in balloons, plastic bags or just in a hand to hand melee. I actually had fun on this holiday in 2004, but the prospect of running to a taxi while dodging water balloons and simultaneously holding my crotch, just didn't seem appealing. So I sat in bed listening to an audio book most of the day. I talk to my dad that evening, he thinks I need to get this checked out. I agree.

So now Monday rolls around, and I wake up and still there is pain. I kind of stink at this point because I have just been laying in bed for 2 days and haven't showered. With special care I get cleaned up and ready to go to the hospital. A last minute look in Lonely Planet reveals there is a travel clinic staffed by Western doctors just off of Lazimpat road, not too far from where we are staying. I plan on taking a taxi, but find that the pain is closer to what it was on Friday than the last two, and since the taxi driver we attempt to talk to doesn't understand English I walk all the way to the clinic. This was uncomfortable, but I at least don't feel the need to punish inanimate objects or kick animals.

I get a British doctor who asks a few questions and does a quick exam and confirms what I figured was the best case scenario, it's just an infection in the right testicle. Just to be cautious he wants to get a urine sample and do an ultrasound to make sure there isn't further infection or anything structurally wrong. The short of it is that everything comes back negative and I'm on antibiotics for the next week. It still hurts though, but I can stop speculating on cancer, or necrotic crotch, or twisted testicles. Now it's just a waiting game to normal again.

1 comment:

  1. Of course I'm not going to be sympathetic to a whiny man who refuses to see a doctor or take some ibuprofen. I only am sympathetic to those who choose to help themselves (hello, I offered 2 wonderful pain relievers, ibuprofen & tequila, what else do you want from me?).

    Men are the worst crybabies when they are sick, and yet won't take medicine! This retarded behavior does not get any sympathy from me. What did Jesus say to the crip at Bethesda? "GET UP", yeah that's right, I'm just tryin' to school ya Brian. Suck it up soldier! hahahahahahahahah

    "Who's Got Big Balls?" hahahahahahaahah best AC/DC song ever. Ciao


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