…And I Shall Never Have Sex Again

I want to go in depth about a problem below the belt. No, I’m not turning into a woman, chimpanzee, or bat. Not that I know of. Anyway, I’ve had an issue with it for long enough and my doctor’s aren’t treating it like it is it’s own problem.

    I’m being treated for a sexually transmitted disease. But the illness isn’t presenting like a typical STD. While sex is contraindicated for the duration of symptoms (kill me), that didn’t stop me from sleeping with one woman again and again.

    We’ll talk about my obligation to speak to this woman about our mutual problem in a moment. For now, let’s get into the nitty gritty of what ails me…

    Symptomatically, my right testicle is swollen for weeks at a time. It’s painful, affecting my right leg with radiating pain. X-Rays taken at two hospitals each determine it is Epididymitis, a condition that isn’t Chlamydia or Gonorrhea yet is treated with the same medications.

    Possible causes are: STI’s (STinfections) like C or G above, Urinary Tract Infections, Urine flow into the Epididymis, Trauma to the area, or Tuberculosis.

    Bring in the urologist, right? They’re impossible to schedule with. I haven’t successfully made an appointment yet.

    Also, I can’t remember having these symptoms before I started seeing the aforementioned woman. Up until this point I haven’t outright blamed her for this. But when we first laid together (just before the pandemic hit) she had her own problem down there; it was a terrible stench that she had the next time we slept together too, aside from those two times, she has smelled better, but she has problems keeping up with her domestic duties. The trash. It sits around the inside of her apartment and the mosquito infestation is…

    It could have been a mosquito that bit my testicle (Yeah, that’s it!). But that would mean tuberculosis. Let’s goddamn hope not.

    I wish I could point at other sources for this problem but at this point she and I aren’t on talking grounds. She doesn’t know about Myra.

    Myra?

    Myra who?

    My right nut.

    She doesn’t know because I haven’t told her. And for a while, I thought it was blue balls so I would just schedule time to have sex with her at her place and then leave immediately. Only for it to hurt still.

    Now that I’m experiencing more prolonged pain, and my epididymis feels like it’s about to swallow my hole testicle, and my leg can hardly take it, I’m headed back to the doctor tomorrow. 

    What worries me the most about her story, is that she has her tubes tied. Is it possible the other men she may have been with have left me a painful gift? Is she a flimsy floozy, or is it all because her hormones ain’t right? I don’t understand women on that level. I’m no gynecologist. 

    To top it all off, I was unprotected each time. No jimmy, no rubber, no training wheels, no hand rails, no – you get the point.

    So guess what the moral of this story is, kids!

    “Take out the trash!”

    “Get a tube tie!”

    “Bros before Ho’s!”

That all sounds strangely logical, but it’s very simple: Wear protective equipment when you go to have sex. A condom can be found at your nearest gas station or convenience store.

    I don’t know how long I will have this problem, but I know I’ll do the best I can to keep myself healthy for as long as possible.

Be Well

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