Tomorrow: I pick up exotic long-acting NSAIDs to see if they prevent or reduce the pain, which low-dose aspirin therapy hasn't helped.
Today: I had blood drawn for a free/total testosterone level. Bets will be accepted until the envelope has arrived regarding whether it's low or normal.
Two to five months ago: I make an Eunuch Archive account. In a fit of pique and curiosity and creative bankruptcy, I chose the name ZeuterMe while looking for information on informal human trials of zinc gluconate injections. There is exactly one account of this, well hidden.
Three to six months ago: Dexter and Lefty start hurting with no known proximal cause.
Two years ago, ± one year: I decide I'm not having any elective work done, and that while it's okay to learn about what (is/can be) done, to have fantasies, and to collect any available information on the subject,
Four years ago: I reenact a scene from "There's Something About Mary" in a public restroom. I heal without a penile frenulum.
Five years ago: I discover people are having themselves electively neutered, and hear that there's such a thing as Eunuch.org. I also discover that there's such a thing as "neutersol".
Ten years ago: I discover castration art in the furry fandom. The result is a very awkward boner, and a long-simmering interest in the subject in art, in science, in history, and I discover with shock that this is actually illegal. If you're a dude.
Twenty years ago: I spend six hours waiting in the ER with a suspected testicular torsion; it's treated with drugs, and widely assumed I dodged a bullet.
At no point have I had much of a libido, for what it's worth. For the most part, and more often than not, it's a matter of "I should be horny right now" rather than "I'm so horny right now".
I carry out routine self-exams to check for cancer, and I'm not hung like Lance Armstrong.
Whatever journey I'm on, I took the first step six hours ago. If I wanted to enjoy my denial, my willful ignorance, there's no going back now.
Regarding my name and the desire stated there, my slightly-better-developed thoughts on the matter are, "I'll figure out some way to try the stuff under formal medical supervision before I go through with surgical orchiectomy, unless it turns out I have - or will soon have - cancer. If I'm going to have them off anyway, how much worse can I reasonably make it with a doctor involved?"
If I'm having surgery down there anyway, I'm going to try to find a plastic surgeon to attempt to construct a penile sheath (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Penile_sheath) - as much as I hate having something flapping in the breeze (or getting caught in zippers), penectomy, nullification, or manpussy has never had any appeal at all, nor has it the shock and offense typical of someone repressing desire. If you like it, more power to you. If you want it, great. If you had it in a formal medical setting, I'm accepting recommendations for "creative" surgeons. But I'm not having it done, thanks.
Pardon my brevity, I wanted to put some facts down as fast as I could before I lost the courage to post this.
