Some time a few years ago I was experiencing a slightly sore left nut, sorry, testicle (to keep it medical). It seemed higher than normal and was more uncomfortable than anything. So, despite how awkward it felt, I did the right thing went to the doctor. The man doctor (phew) told me to take off my pants. He then took an inordinate period of time asking me questions while I stood there yogi style. Surely he could’ve asked me the questions while I was still in pants and then have me take them off?
Once he’d finished with the long list of questions he began his inspection. There are few things weirder than being nude from the waist down and have someone inspect your junk, I literally didn’t know where to look. When he was done he told me I was “well hung” (he was referencing the nut itself unfortunately) but referred me for an ultra sound none the less, just to be on the safe side. The number of people to have witnessed my balls was now growing exponentially.
The ultrasound doctor (another dude) was grumpy chap. I’d obviously interrupted his lovely day rubbing glowing, elated pregnant womens bellies with my maybe defective ball bag.
When you go in for a testicular ultrasound they make you do this thing where you fold you dick, sorry penis, up against yourself with a little towel leaving the testicles isolated and hanging out on their own. I guess it’s so they’re not constantly not having to knock your penis out of the way but it also helps you feel like you’re retaining some dignity. Then comes the lube.
The doctor lubed up my balls with no less than a handful of lube. Not a squirt, not a drop but a scoop of lube and then proceeds to draw tracks over my balls with a small vegetable peeling looking device. He tells me he is measuring circumference and diameter and looks for anything generally out of the norm… The silence is brutal… It’s a good 15 minutes or more of this dude covering every inch of your boys while you watch a screen that doesn’t look like anything more than smoke.
What’s that? Is that normal? That’s not a 3rd one is it?
Thankfully, my nuts are perfectly normal.
He handed me some paper towel to de-lube my balls (not nearly enough) and left the room. As he left he said if I took my referral to the x-ray people down the hall I could get a print out like the pregnant women do. I really wanted to get it so I could keep it in my wallet and show people “the twins” but with my balls still quite lubed and uncomfortable I decided to leave, walking out like John Wayne through a room full of pregnant women.
So why the sore ball you ask? Well, I found out a week later while at the osteopath that it was probably due to my starting to do some sit-ups and exercise after a prolonged period of inactivity. My ball was hanging a bit different and it was probably just getting in the way a bit more than usual and thus a bit sore and uncomfortable… huh.
The purpose of this story is to show that as embarrassing as it might seem to go through something like this, it’s the same for all blokes and the peace of mind you receive makes it worthwhile. It could also save your life, so if you’re worried about your balls, you should just bite the bullet and get them checked out. A little embarrassment never hurt anyone, and you will probably get a killer story out of it!
And in the spirit of embarrassment I am participating again in this years Movember. If you like the idea of a ranga trying (note: trying) to grow some lip pubes and failing miserably please donate to me. Or just donate in general, it is a great cause and a lot of fun.