Your Stories

Uncomfortable for only 5 - 6 days?

ANDREW.

DISCLAIMER: Warning - All those people with religious or sexual hang-ups do not read any further.

Well, where do I begin? I know, the beginning.

Sometimes do you ever wish you believed in religion (that's assuming you don't, which in my case I don't)? Well, about 3 years ago I found myself wishing I'd been born Jewish. The reason behind this is that at the ripe old age of 37 I wouldn't have had to undergo the experience I was about to - Circumcision. Yes, every 18 year old male's pride and glory undergoing the surgeons knife.

Now I've always been a clean person - not the scruffy oily oik most people seem to conjure up of a motorbike rider - but since becoming confined to a wheelchair for the greater part of the day, hygiene, especially around ones genitalia, becomes even more crucial, for obvious reasons. Keeping myself clean around that area started to became quite a problem; my foreskin refused to move. So, like most brave men, I ignored it for quite some time. I used babies cotton buds to clean under the bits that defied the laws of nature (the foreskin), but the infections became worse, and more frequent. And I might add that my once proud symbol of manhood began to disappear; in fact it shrunk to the size of a grape, restrained behind ones foreskin. At one point, Christine, offered to lend me her tweezers when going to the toilet. That was the final straw. I sought out my friendly GP, who quite frankly had a problem finding the problem; seeing as how it had shrunk to such small proportions.

He immediately referred me to the local butcher, sorry surgeon.

At the appointed hour I reported to the local hospital. Once again they amazed me at their ineptitude. I was shown into the consulting room and assisted onto the examination table where this nurse insisted that I removed all my lower clothing. I couldn't see the reasoning in this, I mean what I had to show him was pretty obvious. Maybe the nurse thought he'd need all my clothes off in order to find it (I'm sure she was laughing as she left the room. At least one person was happy). With a rush the door opens, and in walks a Doctor. After explaining that I was Deaf, he introduced himself, and informed me that he was an exchange resident Doctor from America studying British techniques. Now for some reason he seemed intent on shoving his finger up my rear end - perhaps he was looking for the vanished member that I'd so cherished? Anyway, at this point I said, "What the hell are you trying to do?" He asked me when had I started to pass blood from my back passage? "God", I thought, he knew about the time that I'd run the neighbours cat over in the alleyway between the two houses. "What the hell are you on about? I've come for you to look at my foreskin, and disappearing manhood".

"So, your name isn't Mr ------"?

"No, It's Edwards."

"Nurse", he shouted, "err, we appear to have the wrong notes." As I thought, nothing ever changes.

Once he had the correct notes he looked at the offending object: "Aha, yes, that'll have to be removed."

"Er, under local anaesthetic?" I asked.

"Believe you me sir, you don't want to be around when we do that."

Judgement day arrived. Christine drove me to the Infirmary for 8. I thought, "Well, at least it's only day surgery" and the Doctor had assured me that post operatively I would only feel uncomfortable for 5 - 6 days.

Why do I always fall for their bull?

The Hospital had sent me a variety of forms, one of which I always refuse to fill in - and that's the one on ethnicity, and disability. I'm English that's all you need to know. So the ward clerk wasn't to pleased with me seeing as I wouldn't play her games. Anyway, after several Doctors had trouped through to see me, all standing there going um, yes, and disappearing. Then the anaesthetist arrived, and asked if I would like a nerve blocking injection? "Yes. Gimme some of that." God I'm a coward.

Anyway, I woke up after the deed was done to find my tail wrapped in a green gauze; a bit like that green stuff plumbers use on pipes.

The next morning the problems really began. Not only was the pain excruciating, but yellow spots began appearing on the head of my manhood (which, much to my relief, seemed to begin to come out of hiding. My manhood was finally being restored to it's former glory. There's a bit of a paradox here though, seeing as how my 'Manhood' had been surgically removed, if you get what I mean). Later that day the district nurse called to see if all was well. By now the spots were united into one blob covering the entire head. "I've never seen anything like that before. If it's no different tomorrow I'll phone your GP" she said. The following day the pain was so bad (or I'm so soft) Christine phoned the Doctor, who arrived in minutes (at least one of the few members' of that profession I still admire).

"It's a very bad infection. In fact one of the worst I've seen. It does happen though, due to the fact that the surgeon has to tear the diseased skin off the head" he said.

Yes, okay Doc., I get the picture, now shut up.

Before going he left a prescription for antibiotics, and told Christine to make sure it was kept clean and dry. Well, here's the funny bit - just close your eyes and picture this in your mind:

There I was, perched on the shower stool crying (if I'm honest, screaming), with my daughter holding me down whilst Christine washed the puss off the end of my tail with a tepid shower. I was then bundled into the bedroom where Christine dried the offending object with her hair dryer. Not the sort of blow job I'd recommend - even to those I dislike. This went on every day for three weeks. I couldn't even wear underwear.

And so it passed that it was during this period I wished I'd been born Jewish, and the offending object would have been removed shortly after birth.

Well, might you laugh, but see to it that you clean the places others can't reach, meticulously.