Hi everyone. The general structure of my posting to this thread is going to be in medias res, which is to say, disjointed. It's not really that much of a diary since I'm too lazy and not self-obsessed enough to keep one, but I'll start with how my week has gone.

Monday, Feb 1

6:00 AM: I closed the door to my apartment which made a THUD in the empty hallway. I got into the cab which I had called, which took me to a clinic across town. This is the day I'd been waiting for, with equal parts anticipation and nervousness.

6:15: I arrive and am told to wait. A couple minutes later (after picking up a newspaper and seeing my boss's picture on the front, weird), I'm led into a room where there are two other patients. They get a rough awakening, and I greet them with a chipper "Guten Morgen". Soon I'm set up in my ravishing hospital fashions; an orderly gives me an 'anti-thrombosis' injection; and a few minutes later I get wheeled down into the operating room holding pen where there's one other guy. I bet we both wondered what the other was having removed/fixed; early Monday is urology day at the clinic, so who knows?

7:30: After what only seemed like a couple of minutes in the holding pen but was really more like a half hour, they wheeled me in to get prepped. Someone asked me for verification what I'm having done. I struggled with my German for a bit. "Um, um, (thinking), (light bulb goes off), Hodenentfehrnung." I smiled, knowing that I was able to make myself understood in German; I had sat at home all the previous week mouthing the word to myself knowing that I'd have to pronounce it perfectly at this moment.

They anesthetized my right forearm, jammed in an IV the size of a garden hose, and told me that...

9:30: Rise and shine! I woke up pretty sharply from my anesthesia as if nothing had happened; and I felt as if nothing had happened. I actually had to ask if anything had been done and what time it was. They wheeled me upstairs where I'd be for another two days.

The pain wasn't too bad but just to be on the safe side when the pain began to come I asked for a painkiller. Nausea city! I couldn't eat a proper lunch, and I kept dozing off and waking up when a hyperactive orderly would come in and ask, yell really, if we wanted tea or something, and not listen for our answers. Older patients (hard of hearing and a bit human-interaction-deprived) seem to take well to this kind of behavior, while it just annoys the heck out of me, since I would have preferred some rest.

At about 4 or 4:30 I became more coherent and was able to put down serious amounts of tea and water. Dinner was a couple of slices of cheese and a couple of slices of processed meat (and some bread which I didn't eat) so it's a good thing that a friend of mine visited me. I sent her out for a quart of Linguica-tomato soup at a Portuguese restaurant next door; never has tomato soup tasted so good.

Sleep that night? Near zero. The guy in the bed next to me was a bit pensive and calm after his prostate surgery (it could always be worse, right?), but the guy next to him was an industrial worker (driver actually) who made more noise and commotion than a boiler explosion. He had some sort of internal bleeding problem which he was operated on for, and he grunted and tossed and turned and opened up and closed the loudest velcro vest EVER and would crash into the nearby closet doors somehow as he tossed and turned. Oh, and he was a heavy smoker with a serious cough and boy did he SNORE. He'd take smoke breaks over in the bathroom and then open the window right above my head to get some fresh air. We don't really have a word for this kind of guy in American English since we really don't have industrial workers anymore to speak of. Thankfully he left in the morning.

The guy next to me was much more sedate. He had a prostate operation a couple of hours after my operation, and the big issue with him was the whole catheter thing, plus the fact that he's basically being flushed with enough water to fill the Baltic. Every two hours or so an orderly would have to take a pitcher of what looked like pink lemonade and go dump it into the toilet. In a night without much rest. And my second least favorite orderly, a hyperactive Polish guy, was giving me crap about why I wasn't sleeping on my side. After my groin had been cut into, twice. With two drains still in there, which ain't so comfy.

I was too tired to start an argument and he wouldn't listen to my groggy broken German anyway, but I was going to say, "Well, let's give YOU an inguinal castration, mister, with scary-looking tubes sticking out, with a bed that reclines like an airplane seat, and see how much YOU roll over, mister!"

Ugh, where do they find these people?

Tuesday, February 2

Breakfast was not TOO eventful. Someone had amended my order to include a bunch of stuff I didn't want, namely tons of bread and margarine, but THIS orderly is one of this nicest ladies I've ever met. She took the bread back and, in addition, brought some extra vegetables for me.

The conversation with the older guy next to me kind of meandered; he mostly wanted someone to talk to. He's a German of a certain generation which was born during the onset of World War II and had to deal with rough conditions for the first decade or so of his life. Fashionwise, you can spot them on the street by the fact that they look like homeless people and NEVER throw clothes away. The conversation was mostly about the record snowfall that we've been having in northern Europe, plus his garden.

Lunch: Kohlroulade, my favorite German dish after Rinderroulade. I wish that there were more, but in general German food is good and well-made, and German hospital food is edible. The orderly was also SHOCKED that I still had my drains in (as if I knew the word 'surgical drain' in German and knew how to make the plural accusative out of it). After lunch he pulled them out. Honestly, that is the worst pain I felt through this entire process, but after about a minute I felt much better.

I tried to catch up on some rest throughout the evening, but the combinations of copious black tea (which was good but strong), the stale air (headache inducing), the orderlies yelling at the old man about his catheter and pee-bag (he tried to detach them and go into the toilet, I think, out of boredom), all combined to thwart my efforts. At least for dinner they got my order right; I ordered tons of that really good German smoked ham. mmmmmmm By this time I could eat a horse, but this eunuch loves his ham.

Tuesday night was better: No yob sounding as if he were being assaulted by an elk, fewer visits from the pee-bag fairy for my roommate, nobody smoking, and rough agreement between the two of us as to how often we'd open the window to try and clear the air. I got at least some rest.

Wednesday February 3

They really screwed up my breakfast order this time. I ordered 2 eggs (pun intended), some of that good ham, and a few other things. I got one egg, a ton of bread, and very little of that good ham, though they were nice enough to bring my cucumbers and tomatoes that I'd special-ordered since they're happy when someone cares to special-order something healthy. The one thing I have been fantasizing about all week was a good omelet, maybe with some smoked salmon on the side. You can all guess what I'm having for breakfast tomorrow. mmmmmmmmmm

The orderlies' parting joke? That I'd better go get some nuts when I went shopping. I said I'd have hard-boiled eggs instead. (As in Spanish, 'eggs' also means 'testicles' in German).

I made it home at about 10:30 in the morning; calling a cab was rough since the whole town is snowed in; but we were able to get one and I'm here now.

At this point the pain isn't so bad, though I will feel a bit if I suddenly sit down or get up. Walking is a little bit difficult but this afternoon I hope to mail a postcard, get something to eat, and stop by the pharmacy to get some bandages and send in my next testosterone prescription. This isn't as ambitious as it sounds, since all of these things are within two or three blocks. I have all afternoon.

And? Lunch! I can eat a horse.

In comparison with the alcohol injections, I have found some interesting contrasts. The injections are far more debilitating when done effectively, since in my case they swelled up to the size of oranges and hurt like hell. Now, I have no painful balls to get in the way. The incisions at this point are more like classic flesh wounds, unpleasant and on the deep side, but not debilitating. Walking is about as difficult, but the sharp debilitating pain is not there. I think I'll be OK.

And sitting in the hospital room, I thought, "It could be worse," as I looked over at the prostate surgery patient.

I will say, my enthusiasm for a sack reduction surgery right away has gone down; I might just want to bundle that in when I get my complete nullo. We'll see about that.

But yeah, I did it! I smiled a little bit yesterday thinking about this, but I don't think that the sense of accomplishment will really set in until things heal and look good. Looking down, it looks like I still have something in my sack since a little bit of fluid decided to go there. And I can't shower yet and my movement is limited. And that sack HAS to go at some point. So there is stuff to do yet.

I'll post on my motivations, my history, and my future aims, as well as my healing, as things strike me.

Meanwhile, off to the store.

OK, I made it to the pharmacy and store and back, but boy is it yucky out there.

Funny anecdote: An old lady and I helped each other cross a slushy street.

Cross-cultural observation #3,267: Boy, do old ladies in these parts cuss a lot.

Thanks, Greylayer, for a well-written, well-observed and humorous posting! You're well up there with the Garrison Keillors and the Terry Pratchetts of this world! Have you posted any fiction in the Archive?

Anyway, I'm glad to hear that things went OK for you in the eunuch factory, and I hope it continues that way. Do keep us posted.

Greebo

Graylayer,

Welcome to the fellowship. I hope that your recovery will be as easy and pain free as mine was. Seems that you got excellent care from what you have posted.

How are you doing now ?

Raymar

Thanks, Raymar. Is there some kind of an initiation to this fellowship? A pledge pin perhaps? An update is in order.

Thursday, February 4

The past day or so has gone very well though cabin fever is beginning to set in. I slept pretty well and woke up with far less pain; it no longer feels like someone stuffed a sack of potatoes up my crotch but instead it feels more like just one potato or two. Interestingly, some of the pain went away when I changed my bandages for the day and found that one of the bandages had been sticking to a suture and occasionally tugging at it.

Aesthetically it looks a bit like the Frankenstein monster down there with the two big inguinal incisions going all the way down toward where the base of the penis and sack meet, and in another day or so stuff should be totally closed up and I can finally take a shower. The sack itself shows a small bit of bruising and has just enough fluid to make it look like I have balls...but it doesn't feel that bad...and the lack of painful balls in the way has been a huge bonus.

My main complaint when walking around, at this point, is the sack sticking to my legs and getting pulled back simultaneously. If that's my main complaint, this is a very good sign, because it means that the inguinal region is healing up internally and not really bugging me that much. I'm moving at about 2x the speed of yesterday and it's not agonizing. If yesterday I was like an 85 year old, today I'm like a 75 year old. Tomorrow? Let's hope for 65.

Off to run some light errands. Later, everyone.

graylayer02 (imported) wrote: Fri Feb 05, 2010 8:05 am Thanks, Raymar. Is there some kind of an initiation to this fellowship? A pledge pin perhaps? An update is in order.

Thursday, February 4

The past day or so has gone very well though cabin fever is beginning to set in. I slept pretty well and woke up with far less pain; it no longer feels like someone stuffed a sack of potatoes up my crotch but instead it feels more like just one potato or two. Interestingly, some of the pain went away when I changed my bandages for the day and found that one of the bandages had been sticking to a suture and occasionally tugging at it.

Aesthetically it looks a bit like the Frankenstein monster down there with the two big inguinal incisions going all the way down toward where the base of the penis and sack meet, and in another day or so stuff should be totally closed up and I can finally take a shower. The sack itself shows a small bit of bruising and has just enough fluid to make it look like I have balls...but it doesn't feel that bad...and the lack of painful balls in the way has been a huge bonus.

My main complaint when walking around, at this point, is the sack sticking to my legs and getting pulled back simultaneously. If that's my main complaint, this is a very good sign, because it means that the inguinal region is healing up internally and not really bugging me that much. I'm moving at about 2x the speed of yesterday and it's not agonizing. If yesterday I was like an 85 year old, today I'm like a 75 year old. Tomorrow? Let's hope for 65.

Off to run some light errands. Later, everyone.

It is often recommend to wear a supporter (jock strap) for a while. Or more tight briefs. It give better support and prevents the movement of he sack. It will also keep the sack from the legs.

Welcome to the very elite group of Eunuchs. Hope you enjoy your new life. Wish you all the best.

Friday, February 5

I said yesterday that my goal today was to feel as if I'm 65. Try 45 or 50. Big improvements with the pain; rolling over at night was no big deal; and neither was taking my first shower since Monday morning. I'm a ball of energy today, relatively speaking. It helps that the weather has improved and there's even some sun. I have dinner plans with some friends at a decent Italian place a few blocks away, which is good because the cabin fever is so bad that I spent the day cleaning up and hauling trash outside. Yes, I can haul trash outside with no worries. Anything except sitting here.

Has anyone else had a strong urge to come out as a eunuch to people? In the month or so heading into my operation, I had little else on my mind (OK, a lot on my mind, but this was the biggest thing). I'm usually the type not to talk about myself, but as my surgery got closer and closer, I felt like I needed support from my real-life friends as well as others who'd been through it. The net result of this is that most of my friends know about my condition, why I'm at home this week, though I told them a sanitized story which involved a bike accident because they already think I'm strange enough. My family doesn't know yet but it's a matter of time, given the way my friends are, so I probably should tell them. That's right, my family knows that I went in for an operation, but they have no idea what for. That's how little we usually talk about ourselves. My coworkers know that I went in for an operation but they don't know for what, and they don't really want to know. (Germans are great at compartmentalizing between work and life.) But I'm out to pretty much all of my friends, and their support has been incredible.

For those who have come out to your families, do you have any experiences to share?

Since I got home from the operation this urge has gotten stronger, though I'm sure that will subside over time. I'll probably get enough random weird PMs and things will settle down enough so that it isn't on my mind so much. But then again, I'm the type to be 'out and proud' because I have to be; I'm so average-looking and clean-cut and self-contained that nobody would even think that I'm gay let alone a gay eunuch. If you saw me on the street walking funny, the LAST reason you'd come up with would be that I went and had my balls cut out earlier this week.

On the anatomical side of things, things are looking fine color-wise, no serious bruising, some in the sack but nothing too frightening. The free-floating wad of liquid is still there; it makes it look like I have a left nut and my penis looks like I'm a freaky silicone-pumper. It was much worse when I did those alcohol injections last summer, so I'm not too worried; the swelling is no worse than yesterday. I went with some pretty regular briefs, on the pouchy side. I don't own a jockstrap and I need somewhere to put my penis. The sack has to go somewhere too. Apart from the liquid nut, my sack is 6" long and empty (but they would NOT remove it!), and that has to go somewhere or else it will get badly pinched and squished.

I'm still getting the squishing and sticking but it's better than yesterday, and as the current swelling goes down and the incisions heal more I can switch to something less pouchy.

September 1984

It's my first day of the first grade and it's time for the boys and girls to line up and be led out for a bathroom break. The teacher shuffles me into the line with the boys, and we do our respective business and return to class.

That night as my parents are preparing my bath and I'm getting ready, I ask my dad, "Am I a boy or a girl? The teacher wanted us to line up according to which was which." "You're a boy." "OK, sure."

Every now and again I read of someone who comes along and says he's wanted to be a eunuch for the past 6 months or 6 years or 6 minutes or whatever. I've known all my life. When I said "OK" to my dad, I knew that I wasn't a girl, so I had kind of figured that I was a boy by default, but that seemed so arbitrary to me too. When I talk with people, they're mostly familiar with transsexuals by now, men who want to be women or women who want to be men. Some have even heard of genderqueers and intersexed people, who typically end up somewhere between male and part female, a little of both. Most don't understand eunuchs, especially those who view 'eunuch' as a gender in itself as opposed to an absence of gender. I don't view it as being somewhere on the male-female spectrum but off in its own direction.

I've never been in the least bit female. I tried on a female bathing suit once and felt completely ridiculous. I played with trucks in the dirt, rode my dirt bike through the woods, and I still like sprinting my bike drafting off of cars. I've never been in the least bit androgynous either...maybe a touch on the pretty side...but definitely masculine-looking enough to be mistaken for a straight boy, even by the parish priest. Yeah, I threw a ball like a girl, to my dad's endless frustration. But it never meant that I wanted to be a girl. It just meant that I wasn't cut out for anything where balls were involved.

I just knew that I wasn't a boy but I didn't have a word for it. Not that I would ever talk about this with anyone. Growing up where I did, you did what you could to fit in, and this was before the internet made it possible to meet other oddballs. But I've known all my life.

Graylayer,

Reading your last post , it could almost have been written by me. i had undescended testicles , and they atrophied as a small child. While they were never removed until 2008, I always felt that I wasn't supposed to have them.

The boys that I knew growing up all had this unattractive appendage between their legs , that I "knew" boys were supposed to have, but I didn't want them. I too while on the pretty side, was never feminine in any way. indeed for years I worked in the marine construction business, building piers and bulkeads, a very masculine job.

Having spent most of my life with invisible very small testicles, I was very comfortable with the own body. It looked right, but knowing that those things were embedded in me made me feel uncomfortable. Now that they are gone, I feel totally at peace with myself.

I was fortunate in that as a child I met several other boys who also did not have testicles, and that made me feel that I was not a total outsider. The internet has further expanded my knowldge, and I now have eunuch acquaintences all over the world. Its surprising how many of us there are out there. Not only those who refuse HRT, but those who just do not want to have balls.

As to your question about being "out". Almost everyone I know is aware of my lack of balls. Even associates from work , since I was out for surgery. I have no shame about appearing in a room and baring myself, since I look like I always have. I have nearly no scrotum, and it is painfully obvious to even the most casual observer that I am ball less. I would think you'll be much happier once the scrotum starts to shrink some, or is removed. The feeling when you are smooth down there is amazing, and it opens up whole new sensory areas, that previously were blocked by balls.

My b/f who has a rather healthy pair, and started out fine with my not having them, but with no desire to lose his, is reaching the point where he prefers the way I look to the way he looks. I would say in the not too distant future, he will opt to have them removed.

Another old friend of mine, from way back in high school nurtured the desire to be de-balled from then til 2 years ago. He had been married and divorced, and then ran into me again. He, like you did alcohol injections, and then a surgeon removed them. He is ecstatic with the results, and now says his only regret is that he didn't do it 25 years ago.

There are many guys out there who secretly have had the desire for years, but never voiced it to anyone, lest they be thought to be totally insane. Thanks to EA, and other sites, the word is getting out, and these men are acting on their long supressed desires.

Glad to hear you are healing so well. For me, I was totally better in about 2 weeks, and anxious to get back to my life.

Keep us posted, and feel free to message me privately if you have any questions at all.

Raymar

OK, it looks like the software upgrade ate yesterday's post. Not much to report, lots of continued improvement; my worst sources of pain at this point are those bandages which stick to hairs and underwear but not skin. Tomorrow I head back to work, which will provide relief from the cabin fever which has set in.

@Greeber: Thanks. People don't usually think of me as particularly funny. I'm thinking of Homer Simpson banging on the TV when Keillor comes on, "BE. MORE. FUNNY!"

@Raymar: Wow, you were very fortunate. I didn't know any gays growing up, much less eunuchs. Even now I only know one and a half eunuchs in real life (the half, my boyfriend, is nutless but doesn't identify as a eunuch), and it's very hard to meet any. Most real eunuchs aren't very talkative and just want to get on with their lives, and from some of my own online experiences in the past week, I can sympathize.

I can do a whole post about what it's like being a eunuch online. I sure have enough time on my hands for another day or so.