This is a rather sensitive issue, you may want to skip it. 

On a normal day no man gives his testicles a second thought.

One day a few months back I noticed that when I turned over in bed I had to adjust my crotch to achieve comfort. I thought at the time that my thighs must be getting fat. Same thing the next night. Weird. I got up in the morning and put the dogs out for a pee and plunked down on a stool to wait and let them back in. Felt like I’d had what I’ve called a “Charley horse“ but means “kick in the nuts”. Shortness of breath and extreme discomfort. Very Unusual to sit on one’s balls. They are not made for that. Still didn’t think too much about it, just carried on with my day. 

Later, out shopping at the bookstore I went to the rest room and had some difficulty with my fly at the urinal. I reached in to facilitate the exercise and was alarmed that one of my testicles that was usually grape sized was the size of a plum. My mind was immediately in catastrophe mode imagining testicular cancer and I called my GP (doctor). It was just after four pm and the answering machine was on so I had to leave a message describing my problem. The secretary called back within the hour and I got an appointment for first thing the next day. 

My doctor asked me when I first noticed the symptoms, and I truly answered that I couldn’t accurately say because I was long past adolescence and no longer in the habit of fondling “the boys”. He laughed. Upon inspection, he said he suspected a hydrocele but ordered an ultra sound just to make sure. I got an appointment for later that morning and went to the Montréal General Hospital and gowned up. I was waiting outside the changing room to be called and a nervous young man came in and asked “Mr. McLean?” I was the only person there and replied that that was my doctor’s name and I, being the patient was Mr. Hanchet. He apologized and explained that he was a “resident” I impishly wisecracked that the ultra sound was to be of my testicles (just to be clear). He was actually very professional and thorough and explained that after he was done another doctor would confer with him and then come and explain to me what they saw. The female doctor confirmed that it was indeed a hydrocele and that there was no evidence of anything else to be worried about. She said she’d send the result to my doctor and urology. I thought she said “neurology” and impishly quipped that unlike a lot of men I didn’t think with my crotch. Funnier to me than to her….oh well.

A week passed. No call from urology. I called my GP and asked what to do and the secretary said I could bypass the system and get seen by a doctor who was private (meaning outside of the Medicare system) meaning there would be a fee. I decided to wait, but another week went by and my situation was starting to affect other aspects of my life. Driving was becoming awkward and uncomfortable. I called the private urologist’s office and the secretary informed me that the operation would be $850.00. I said I had to think about it.  I decided to wait.

My brother in law is an eye doctor and had told me that if I needed help he “knows a guy”. He called, but the dr. was on holiday. A follow up call got me an appointment for surgery. I  will go under the knife at the end of August. 

Meanwhile it was still growing. Now an avocado and every time I needed to sit, I did so gingerly on the edge of the chair and slide back. Hoping I wouldn’t need a wheel barrow soon. This was just nuts!

The avocado grew into a tangerine in a ski mitten as my problem expanded. My crotch entered the room before I do and my head is filled with quotations I have heard before that now have new meaning. “He must have big balls” meaning he was brave. The opposite of timid. I don’t see how the size of one’s nuts determine one’s bravery, but I digress. Cojones? Forget about it. Great target for an enemy.

The urologist gave me four options: 1. live with it. 2. drain it. 3. drain it and inject medicine. 4. go under the knife. One was out of the question and three and four needed to be done in a hospital. I chose #2.

At the urology clinic there is a small room set aside for these kind of “procedures”. I nervously was humming the same “The Dance Of The Sugarplum Fairies” under my breath. I had decided an apt nickname for this operating room was “The Nutcracker Suite”. The medical staff were all business as after a small prick (pun intended) I finally earned the sobriquet of “Numb Nuts”. The extraction took a minute or so, and it was all over. 220ml of gross fluid which is almost a cup. I stood up and immediately sensed the difference. Perversely I started to sing “You Make Me Feel Like Dancing” which I didn’t even know I knew. I did a Pierre Trudeau pirouette …(Pierreouette) in my relief.

It has been over a week, and the return to normalcy has been a relief. I am very grateful for this resolution to my minor issue and has made me more mindful and empathetic of those with less easily resolved medical issues.