Sunday, February 24, 2008

Shock and Awe.

After 11days I've found out that.....

"I DO NOT HAVE THE CANCER" that being said, how about a little tale from my nutsack. (I'll be glib, and try to inject some humor into this cuz God knows I need a laugh right now) Seeing as how my nutsack has a front row seat to the malady...that's the best and most informed party to listen to. Before I go any farther, 1.) I'm a sexy bitch when I wear a hospital gown, 2.) Check your junk for problems on a regular basis, not just your boys....all of your junk 3.) I am frightened out of my skin and will be until such time as the doctors tell me I can finally take a deep breath and f*ck a hooker.

I'm single, 32, I work nights and haven't been in a relationship for the better part of a 5yrs. I'm just setting a tone here because Valentines Day 2008 was quite possibly the wreck of my mental stability for the rest of my life.

I woke from a dead sleep on Thursday morning with a priapistic erection that was nothing like the equipment that I've been tinkering around with for the last 22yrs. I know my intimate self, there was something completely wrong. Priapism is one thing, when it wakes you from a sound sleep and a portion of your 32yr old wang isn't engorged with blood, F*ckin bells and whistles go off. A trip to the ER sans Specialists had me worked into a frenzied state closer to catatonic. I was given anti- inflammaroties, and advice to get to a specialist, ice it down....yadda yadda.

Obviously when the erection dissipated I scrutinized the apparatus. (Appointment with specialist...no-one will see me until Tuesday morning) *graphic description comin'* Located just below and butted upagainst my Urethra and left corpora cavernosa was a lump about the size of a Ticonderoga No.#2 pencil eraser. Distal to that point my erectile tissue wasn't receiving blood enough to function. Bruising, swelling and a low throbbing pain round out the "good" aspects of what was happening. I'll keep the "bad" to myself thank you very much

I had a good long fester all weekend, continued to worry, freaked out on Saturday evening/morning....lost my shit on Monday evening at work "I have a lump in my penis and it's stopping blood flow? what if it's malignant?" "THEY're going to amputate the thunder donkey!" puke, vomit, full blown panic attack complete with faint, and numb extremities. {welcome to my thoughts...even though at this point the thunder donkey was more or less a sway back mule not good enough for hauling supplies to their destination.} I left work early and traveled to the fam's place.... They accompanied me to. Urologist number #1 [as an aside, I've had 6 more dudes touch my wang in the last week than I've had women touch me in the last 5yrs and that includes Julie the P.A, and Sue the R.N] Urologist #1. Dr. Schwartz, no joke, that was his name. He was about as helpful as a punch in the groin. His medical opinion you're fine, take some aspirin and call "when it gets worse" to a man who has never had problems in that area, telling him to to take two aspirin and call in the morning is not the way to go. Dr. Schwartz basically acted as though he was more interested in a delicious blueberry muffin and a large latte.... I was his only obsticle to said deliciousness. "F-him" Shaggy scheduled a second opinion but not until after he had to visit a GP, and have some more people play with his painful wang-doodle.

During the last 7days I'd had the opportunity to sleep for about 3hrs a night. Food? Forget it.

I forgot her name, but I'd like to apologize to the random nurse that was taking my blood pressure for the 20th time that asked me if I was "Nervous about anything" my pressure being a bit hi apparently. ~snapped, lost it!~

The last Dr. I visited was Friday morning Dr. Slatch he was informative, talked me through the Cat Scan info, spoke highly of the vascular surgeons in the hospital. (You don't need to know whether or not they did a biopsy on my lump /blockage, but you can imagine it's not a fun process if explained).

Diagnosis SHAGGYBOB's JUNK.
~At somepoint either in the recent or distant past there may or may not have been some trauma to the Corpora or not. Why this benign anomoly has appeared is up in the air. The lump cysted, plaqued over and pressed on vessels located around it. The entire process taking any amount of time between 5minutes and 32yrs. While rolling in my sleep with an erection, leverage was misplaced, pressure burst vessels, and I woke up screaming. Imagine a charlie horse. The immediate attack of white blood cells to correct the damage blocked blood flow. Erectile tissue was and is still compromised. Any further growth of scar tissue will further dibilitate blood flow. SO......my wang has officially busted, like a balloon. Signs and symptoms of Peyronie's Disease are the closest descriptions that the Doctor could give me. Although PD won't manifest itself until after the healing process is well on its way. They're saving the peel the banana and melon-ball out the bad stuff hypothesis until after a shot at un-invasive recovery. I guess this anomaly happens to a whopping 0.04% of the male population so it's not unheard of...although it is uncommon for folks to get treatment; even though the treatment is just a guesstimation of proper whatever, mostly due to a persons embarrassment/unwillingness to seek medical attention. I can understand that, but it just ain't me.

There are no specific medications that can help heal the problem. The doctor is hoping that a steady influx of blood thinners, B6 and B12, Vitamin E, and a few other additives and anti-inflammatories will make for a cocktail that will allow blood to reach the extremity past the obstruction, thus eliminating the possibility of necrosis. It's not a fixer, it's a prevention game now. He thankfully describe the process as thus. "They're pac-man drugs, they'll be eating away all the enzymes that could cause scarring, and inhibit platelets and stuff so that you're junk has a chance" Dr. Slatch dumbed his initial statement down after the deer in headlights flashed on my face. Due to the beneficial effects of the cocktail...of course you can imagine that there is a down side. And that is that the entire healing process is going to be exponentially retarded, as well as creating a veritable hemophiliac out of me.

I'm single, 32, I work nights and haven't been in a relationship for the better part of a 5yrs. I'm just setting a tone here because Valentines Day 2009 could quite possibly be the wreck of my mental stability for the rest of my life.

I've been told that any sexual activity will be detrimental to the healing process, I'm supposed to try not to A.) get an erection [I've had one already...it hurts, no REALLY IT FUCKING HURTS, I can steer my thought away from boners complete with sharp stabbing throbbing pains] B.) touch or Stimulate an erection should it manifest itself C.) Use my erection with a partner for sexual reproductive purposes [the potential for re-injuring and or causing more damage grows with intercourse...apparently it's a rough thing when you have completely squashed/smashed/nonworking blood vessels]... given that the healing process is retarded by the vitaminie drugged up cocktail this will go on for, but is not limited to, 12-18months from the date of injury. I don't have total ED, but the percentage is high enough to make me feel like a goddamned freak. Marvin Nash style from Resevoir Dogs "I'm fuckin deformed"

There are percentages of corrective manifestation connected to that time frame. These are the 3 outcomes: 33% Everything takes its sweet-ass time healing and all returns to normal. 33% the damage is permanent yet doesn't progress further, and "roll a 5 or a 6" the damage progresses to the point of being more dibilitative making it impossible to perform normal intercourse, blockage of the required pipes, necrosis, and corrective/reconstructive surgery is eminent. I'VE OFFICIALLY REMOVED THE DICE FROM The PARTY-IN-A-VEST. The what ifs are heavy. The why me, why nows are ripe, the WTF factor in my life.... is small...about the size of a ticonderoga No.2 pencil eraser.

So...there it is. I've walked away from being a cancer theorist. I've entered into a realm of dark, I-don't knowed-ness, and have a bit of a problem wrapping my mind around anything.

I'm single, 32, and until 12months from now, I don't know if I'll ever enjoy normal sexxy time again.

$1500
7 Doctors
4 cups pissed in
8hrs of paperwork
5 procedures
1 drug and vitamin cocktail
No difinitive remedy
No sexy time 12/18months


Hand spring, hand spring, round off, back flip, triple twist Tah DAH! (<= sits on ground and buries face in hands) Seriously... put your panties back on...I can't even if I want to.

It's tough to think about something 24/7 without overreacting, but I'm there. I'm not looking forward to any of this. It's amazing how the human body can change in an instant. I just wish I dislocated my finger instead...that would be a little easier to cope with. T-minus 354 days.

....."The lunatic is in my head
The lunatic is in my head
you raise the blade, you make the change
you rearrange me ' till I'm sane
you lock the door
and throw away the key
there's someone in my head but it's not me".........

2 comments:

Kate said...

Oh, honey, too much to deal with. Thanks for your bravery in sharing it all - it's a whole area I know nothing about, and I seriously wish you still knew nothing about it all.

You've got a lot of people that care for you out there, for whatever you need.

moe.L said...

Sweet dancin' moses...bobert!!!

i'm here if ya need me...