I could write about the utter terror someone who passes out when given shots or blood tests faces when going for surgery on his nethers, but it’s easier to just provide my impressions from that timeframe as they were happening.
Accordingly, here are my tweets, in reverse chronological order:
- Fireworks behind our house tonight. Either the Braves won, or the city is celebrating my infertility. Fri Jun 25 22:49:22 2010 via Twitter for iPhone
- Thanks for all the support, but tweeting a bunch isn’t brave. It’s how I cope: diversion. Fri Jun 25 15:23:57 2010 via Twitter for iPhone
- Post surgery milk shake!!! (@ OK Cafe) http://4sq.com/5c5ccS Fri Jun 25 15:20:00 2010 via foursquare
- Am now safely in the passenger seat of our minivan. How appropriate. Fri Jun 25 15:16:03 2010 via Twitter for iPhone
- The new walk of shame: gingerly shuffling out of the urologist’s office in front of 20 people. Fri Jun 25 15:09:42 2010 via Twitter for iPhone
- Am upright. Still afraid to look down. Is this what it feels like to be a circus performer? Fri Jun 25 15:03:36 2010 via Twitter for iPhone
- I like how it says “congratulations!”. Asses. http://yfrog.com/euofngj Fri Jun 25 15:02:39 2010 via Twitter for iPhone
- This is where my bare ass sweat like a whore in church. http://yfrog.com/5cvhoaj Fri Jun 25 15:00:27 2010 via Twitter for iPhone
- I am afraid to look down under this gauze. It’s like being on a building’s ledge. Fri Jun 25 14:58:34 2010 via Twitter for iPhone
- They say no peas or ice. I did it scalpel-free! Fri Jun 25 14:57:19 2010 via Twitter for iPhone
- Just got busted tweeting. Oops. Apparently I’m supposed to provide a semen sample when I’m at blogher: 6 weeks from now. Hmmm. Fri Jun 25 14:56:40 2010 via Twitter for iPhone
- The video says I am supposed to take “specimen” cups with me. I can only imagine. Fri Jun 25 14:52:01 2010 via Twitter for iPhone
- The dr said he knew I was a lawyer by my small penis. I said I knew he was a doc by his med mal insurance releases. Fri Jun 25 14:50:25 2010 via Twitter for iPhone
- Why is STP’s “Half the Man I Used to Be” in my head? Fri Jun 25 14:49:13 2010 via Twitter for iPhone
- I think smelling burning flesh was the worst. Oh yeah, and the damned needle that made me sweat a quart. Fri Jun 25 14:48:11 2010 via Twitter for iPhone
- I think he’s done. I’m alone w the video again. 2:46 PM Jun 25th via Twitter for iPhon
- I hope this isn’t “intern day.” 2:25 PM Jun 25th via Twitter for iPhone
- The video stopped. http://yfrog.com/j2bzcj 2:23 PM Jun 25th via Twitter for iPhone
- Now the video wants me to take off my pants. Stranger danger!!! 2:19 PM Jun 25th via Twitter for iPhone
- The video says not to worry. The video does not know me. 2:17 PM Jun 25th via Twitter for iPhone
- I like the word “rare.” 2:17 PM Jun 25th via Twitter for iPhone
- They are making me watch a video. I don’t want to know the risks, asshole. 2:16 PM Jun 25th via Twitter for iPhone
- a touching post by a friend about my balls: http://bit.ly/9OrSkO 11:43 AM Jun 25th via TweetDeck
- am 3.5 hours away from my appointment to get neutered. stressed. is that what a rapist in saudi arabia feels like? 10:39 AM Jun 25th via TweetDeck
Now that it’s over, I gotta say I recommend doing it scalpel-free, like I did here. No ice or frozen peas. No swelling or bruising the next day or the next day or the day after that. No finding my absent penis on a blanket next to a broken toaster oven several hours after losing it.
The worst part? The clamp. I was terrified to look down, but at some point, some sort of vice grip contraption was cinched around my johnson. I was certain it was going to lose its nutrients’ supply, turn black, and fall onto the floor before ending up in a pawn shop. But it didn’t. I was VERY relieved, however, when the cinch came off at the end.
As for my interpersonal relations? Okay so far. I mean, my pecker wasn’t talking to me for the first several hours afterward. I avoided eye contact until Saturday afternoon (a good 24 hours), and even when I reached out to it to resume normal conversation, it played “hard to get” and retracted like a defeated turtle.
I think our relationship will improve over time, however. It keeps asking to go for vigorous runs down the nature trail behind our building, and I have to gently tell it, “Not yet. Doctor’s orders, buddy.” It seems to understand, even if it acts petulant right now.
Someday, it’ll thank me for the sacrifice my psyche endured for its freedom from suffocation by latex or butting its head against hard plastic. Some day, oh peevish penis. Just not now.