Hello People
Merry nearly Christmas people. With it being the season of Christmas and with this being the fourth blog I couldn't miss the opportunity for the pun, though it may quickly become apparent that this isn't the most Christmassy blog out there. My opinion on Christmas isn't exactly what you'd call festive, hey maybe when I'm older I'll get visited by some creepy ghosts trying to guilt me into being happy but at the moment I'm still a Christmas Scrooge. Anyway nobody came here for my opinion of the festivities, everyone came here for more news on my crown jewels, so let's away.
More tests were necessary, that was the conclusion from the testicular touching. Let me clarify, and this won't be the first time, I am not pregnant. Now you'd think with the fact I am male it would be quite obvious but if I had a pound for every pregnant related test I had received, I would have enough money to buy my very own child and skip the nine months. The first of these many tests was an ultrasound. Now before my diagnosis I was under the impression that ultrasounds were only for heavily pregnant ladies who wanted to catch an unrecognisable glimpse at their as of yet unborn children. I'm not going to pretend to understand the ins and outs of ultrasound technology, but as I found out it, foetus fotography is not it's only use.
Probably, when I have scrawled down more blogs and you can read them consecutively there may be a slight error in my treatment timeline. I'd like to apologise for this but these events occurred over two years ago and my recall, if there are faults obviously isn't good enough. At a guess about a week later I found myself in another waiting area. I had been upgraded out of the Doctor's Surgery and now found myself in the much busier Chesterfield Royal Hospital. The surroundings were much larger and so were the waiting times. When I was eventually called in I'd probably been waiting and therefore panicking for about an hour if not more.
I was welcomed into the room and yet again I was expected to lower my trousers and hop onto the bed. Not willing to appear adept at removing my pants I yet again awkwardly struggled and took far to long completing something that even small toddlers and children can manage without much fuss. If for some reason you've had a ultrasound you can probably skip forward a bit, I'd guess you know how one is administered. For those who've never had such pleasure, this is for you. When my jeans were around my ankles and I was positioned on the bed, the lights were turned off. The Doctor got out his lube... get your mind out the gutter, and began to apply it to my testicles. I should probably say he did brief me beforehand and didn't just start lubing me up, but as I can't remember the exact words, I have omitted it from my tale. A Wii remote, the best description I can give of the device he used. One thing that should be mentioned is that I thought the worst thing to start rummaging around in my private area was Doctor White's cold hands. On this day, the day of the ultrasound, the record of the most uncomfortable nether region fondling was broken yet again. I guess I should be happy as the Wii remote was not cold, instead, this time, the problem was the sheer force applied. I think I may perhaps have mentioned but my testicles HURT. If it was my arm and I were to tell you of my tribulations hopefully the last thing you would do is start smashing at it with a games controller. That is the best description of what occurred that day.
Once I had been tortured and my crown jewels ached even more than before I was thrown a towel. "Clean yourself up". I felt like some sort of hooker he had dismissed after he had his fill. Just in case you hadn't been thinking about the obvious innuendos let me sum it up for you. I was welcomed into a room, I undressed, the lights were turned out, lube was applied, my testicles were sore and I was thrown a towel, told to clean up and to told to get out. I felt violated. Okay, jokes aside, it was incredibly awkward but it wasn't quite as humiliating as I may have initially suggested.
No results were given that day. If anybody has frequent tests at doctor's and hospitals you may know how they work. "No news is good news". This I was hoping would be the end of my yo-yoing to and fro and all my fingers were crossed with the prospect that I would hear nothing and my life could continue on, without hindrance or interference. Though I guess this is another one of those ironic moments, you guys know my story is not over but I was still dreaming, still optimistic, still misguided. Anyway, it's nearly Christmas and you guys are probably distracted by family and new shiny toys, or perhaps like me you are desperately trying to think of excuses as to why I just possibly can't have any brussel sprouts with my Chrimbo Dinner. "That's green, I am not a rabbit, I don't eat green stuff|" is my go to. Finally I'll leave you with my favourite Christmas time quote. "Bah Humbug"
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