My diagnosis of "not infection" turned out to be wrong. My sack is now roughly 8 inches in diameter and still growing.
I've spent the majority of the last 2 days at the hospital and am returning in 3 hours-it's 4:40 am right now. Yesterday, I took another needle in the left nut. I was really missing the sensation after the first one last week, so I was grateful to get even one more. After the needle, he slashed my sack open, again. Not satisfied with the slash he-mind you it makes me queasy to even think about it, now-he grabbed my nuts and squeezed, hard. I didn't vomit so much as choke, gurgle and loose control of all my bodily functions. He told me not to worry about the loss of control-that it was a "normal" reaction. No shit, sherlock.
After more prodding and poking, he decided that an ultrasound would decide whether or not I would have to be hospitalized. I thought crushing my balls pretty much meant I would never walk again, and necessitated a lengthy stay while getting therapy. Surprisingly, he expected me to get up off the floor, clean myself up and waltz down to radiology. Not that he didn't have some small pity for me-he wrote me a scrip for Oyxcontin before I even wiped the bile off my shirt.
Bolstered with the thought of impending narcotic escape, if not bliss, I made my way slowly down to radiology. After no less than three total strangers asking me how my scrotum felt, I'd pretty much lost all my dignity and looked forward to some fine, young intern squirting warm KY on my berries and gently massaging them while I laid back, covered in warm towels. Not unlike a good happy ending in Thailand, no?
Being a geophysicist, and most importantly, specializing in the seismic science, I should have better appreciated the need for good coupling when getting your nuts imaged. No, not that kind of coupling. I mean the better and firmer the contact, the better the sound waves propagate.
Yes. This means the fine young intern doesn't massage so much as bear down on my already tortured testicles. I enjoyed the KY for about 3 seconds before she bore down on my raved scrotum with an intensity that rivaled that of my doctors visegrip-like hand. Gurgled, again.
It was some consolation that while drifting in and out of consciousness, I noticed that she was probably only 20 years old and absolutely mortified by having to spend 30 minutes with her hand on my sack while I squirmed and moaned and cried like a baby. Also, it interesting to learn about the amplitudes and frequency range and ultrasound uses. In theory, with the right processing applied, an ultrasound is capable of resolution measured in millimeters. They can focus the depth of penetration on the fly, which is pretty cool, too. Makes me wonder if there isn't some sort of application there for vibroseis rigs.
Anyway, where was I? She pretty much crushed and mangled my balls, thoroughly completing the job Doc Visegrips started. Then she noted I was bleeding a lot and had gotten blood all over her sonde. I wiped away the tears and hobbled away.
Believe it, or not, I then left the hospital for a quick dentist appointment. Felt like asking him to drill into my eyeball, or kneecap, just for shits and giggles.
Later, the doc determined that I didn't need to be hospitalized for pain control and that I could get my I.V.'s on the fly. I popped down to the lab, sat in a lazyboy for an hour and got a bag of the good shit. I'm heading back this morning for another bag, too.
I like my scrotal region and have become very attached to it. While I can make a few jokes about it cause I'm drugged outta my mind, I really, really hope I'm not going to loose any more of it. Of course YOU guys want to see it, but the Hinden-bag as Travis so aptly named it yesterday, must stay in the hanger, according to PW. Not to leave you totally swinging in the breeze, I have a couple of ultrasounds here for your viewing pleasure:
The first one is the right and still normal at this writing, testicle. Say hello to my testicle, his name is Roy, for reasons only a few would know. This is a full-on shot of him, looking perpendicular to the major axis of the ellipse. You can see what's left of the vas and epididymus and they are faint and normal. A fine looking, right nut. Plenty of character, quick with a joke and always putting in 110% while on the job.
Now meet Ralph, his evil twin. We see him from a slightly end-on view in order to better image the fact that all his hardware is fucked. Also, after getting squeezed, clamped, poked and prodded, you can see he's actually cowering in the corner of my scrotum, weeping. He knows he's close to getting the axe and about as happy as I am at the prospect.
Sorry for the lousy photos, but I'm stoned, in pain and it's earl, early morning. I'm not exactly on my best game, you know? Well, my bag of frozen peas is no longer frozen, so I gotta hobble downstairs for the back up bag of peas and diced carrots. I hate the sharp corners on the carrots, but it's the best I've got.