castration diary

[Zoroaster (imported)]

Some of this I wrote as it was happening; some I filled in later so it would make sense to people who aren't me. All is true, and decidely not sexy, however, for anyone who intends to pull off the surgical option, here's my account of when I got castrated this past December.

It kinda leaves off in January, but basically has a happy ending - I had a little infection, which is clearing up, and am otherwise fine and pleased with things.

I will not give further details about who any of the people in the story are or how I managed to traumatize my testicles so badly. Please don't ask.

I am not and have never been interested in this supposed calm feeling; I had the deep misfortune of living through an entire summer of it (summarized below). Neither have I any interest in becoming (mentally)neuter or feminine (to me, either fate would be a living nightmare). I can't explain it and won't bother trying.

And yes, I'm well aware of the health effects, blah blah blah. Anyway...on to the show:

March thru December, 2004

I am (at the time of writing) a 28 year old male, in decent shape, from a farm in the middle of nowhere and presently living in NYC. Sometime in March

2004, I injured my balls really badly. The official story is I hurt

them accidentally - not exactly true, but it's what I told the doctor.

What I did do to myself looks medically more or less like the same thing, and I preferred

that whoever I ended up talking to didn't know that my desired

end-result was to

have them removed.

My nuts swelled up really huge that night and hurt pretty bad. I stayed home

from work for one day and put up with it through the weekend until I could see

my uninterested insurance-assigned PCP, who gave me some percocet

(even though I

told him how much I hated them) and a referral to a urologist.

I saw the urologist about two weeks later. At this point my balls were still

swollen and painful and I was getting hooked on the percocets, which

were pretty

much ruining my life anyway - I coudln't think, eat, exercise, or sleep right,

and what with me feeling the tendrils of addiction seeping in, I stopped taking

it and put up with the pain.

The doctor, a Chinese guy who was more interested in golf than the welfare of

his patients, seemed at first to be a reasonably competent guy. After three

more appointments where all he did was more and more tests for increasingly

absurd things, I was running out of patience. All he would actually do was

prescribe me boner pills, which I didn't need - my immediate problem (beyond my

mangled balls) was a lack of energy and sexual desire brought on by

testosterone

deficiency, not an inability to get an erection.

My nuts had shrunk to a fraction of their former size. They weren't

putting out

any testosterone, which made me irritable and tired all the time, as well as

sexually disinterested in anything. Since my nuts still hurt a lot, sex was

pretty much out of the question anyway but it did affect my mental

state anyway.

I got angry really easily during this period, which was weird - I'm usually

pretty easygoing.

We did a blood test and found that my testosterone count was a measly 240. The

generlal normal range is from 200 to 1000, but for a 28-year old white male, 240

is waaaay too low. This fuck refused to recognize that fact, claiming that it

was perfectly normal (and before anybody tries to apologize for him, that would

be way low for an Oriental guy too, whom I have read generally have lower

testorone levels than men of other races), and when I told him how shrunken my

testicles were he told me that they looked totally normal to him and he didn't

see what the problem was, then accused me of bragging. He refused to address my

complaint of low libido and the clear symptoms of a testosterone deficiency and

instead just threw more prescriptions for Cialis and Viagra and Levitra at me.

He then said he didn't want to do anything until I went to see his old

professor, who was a university professor and getting an appointment would have

taken something like five months. I wasn't about to wait that long, and the

final straw came when I my next appointment with him. I rode the damn

train for

an hour to get down there, showed up on time, and was told he had already left

for the day. The door to his office then opened from the back and he stuck his

head out to say something to the receptionist, wearing his full golf regalia.

There was an awkward moment as he realized I'd caught him in his lie. He then

threw out a bunch of prescriptions for more boner pills through a cracked door,

refusing to even face me and only giving me something I hadn't asked

for, didn't

need, and didn't want.

Now, I don't mind that much if somebody wants to blow off work, but when you do

that, you call your patients and reschedule. You don't wait until

they've blown

their entire day coming to see you, sat in your waiting room for 45 minutes, and then lie to them about it. I told him

and his bitter fucking receptionist that they could all go fuck themselves if

they couldn't be bothered to let me know when they wanted to cancel and took

off, incredibly angry. Refusing to get me a hormone prescription was

one thing,

but this was just too much to take.

On the advice of a friend, I changed PCP's (obvious, I know - get

another doctor

- but this guy had been leading me on and I'd fallen for it) and

finally got the

ball rolling. My new one actually paid attention to me, looked at the hormone

count and immediately said, yeah, that's way too low for a 28 year old guy.

He told me that indeed Asians typically have lower testosterone counts

than white people, but he couldn't really explain why the urologist asshole

would have told me it was okay. The new PCP did a blood test and immediately

wrote me a hormone prescription when he saw the results, then referred me to a

urologist buddy of his. We compared tattoos.

So I go to see the new urologist, he examines me, and I explain my point of

view: fertility doesn't matter; I don't want kids, ever. They're already not

producing testosterone, so I'm gonna be on that gel crap anyway, and

they hurt a

lot. Basically, they don't do anything good and all they do is hurt, so I just

want all this crap dealt with permanently and to have them removed.

He shocks me by completely agreeing with my point of view, after asking again

about the fertility thing. He says just in case he wants to present my case at

a urology conference in two weeks. In the meantime, he gives me a regular

testosterone prescription and does another blood test, and says he'll let me

know what they think in a month.

Okay, I think, one month - I can deal with that. I go back, and he tells me

that everybody at the conference agreed that removal was the best option

considering the situation and my attitude toward children. He refills my

hormone prescription and we schedule the surgery for mid-November.

Everything appears to be going swimmingly until the day before I was

supposed to

go in, when his office calls me and his office manager person tells me that my

insurance still hasn't approved the procedure yet, and they can't do it unless

that happens or I pay out of pocket, which I absolutely cannot afford.

Two days of phone calls go by, whereupon basically the insurance company got

caught lying to me and the doctor about when they received things and how far

along the pipeline it was, people going home early on their end and not

finishing things I need, and various other hassles when basically I come to the

conclusion that it's just not going to happen. We reschedule for

December 17th.

Two weeks beforehand I get the confirmation from the insurance in the mail, and

just in case I called up the doctor's a few days beforehand to ensure that this

time, everything was set to go. It was, and this time I'm all set.

Friday, Dec. 17th 2004

I'm back from it now, on a percocet and high, which is doing very well at

reducing the pain. I feel like I still have nuts and just got kicked in them.

They put me in a 'scrotal support,' which is basically a jockstrap with a hole

for your dick, and then I have my blue tighty-briefs on pulled up way tight.

Think I may wear my bondage pants for a bit...a lot of support is a good thing

right now.

The trip to the hospital was total and complete shittiness. I was scheduled to

go under the knife at 1:15, and told to show up at 11:30. I signed in

at 11:37.

I had been told not to eat anything after midnight the previous night, so had

had a big dinner and snacked around 11:30 - that had been the last I'd eaten,

and only a little water in the morning.

Around 1:10 they called my name - I figure, okay, a bit behind schedule but now

it's happening, good...I'll be home in time for the 6:00 episode of Stargate.

They just took my blood pressure and heart rate and asked some basic medical

history questions and sent me back out to wait again.

I played my GBA a bit; praise sweet zombie Jeebus that Final Fantasy Tactics Advance takes about 80

hours to finish. Around 3 they call me in again. I'm kind of annoyed but

whatever, now it's happening, right? This time they tease me by having me get

nekkid and put some hospital gowns and little foam disposable slippers with

smiley faces on, then send me back out to wait again. Around 4:30, some more

basic questions, then to wait again. I'm staring to get pretty annoyed by this point.

Around 6 they finally wheel me into pre-op and a very sweet Jamaican woman in a very

ugly red suit (sorry lady, but it was) came and did the pre-op questionnaire. It was kind of

embarrassing that everybody asked me what I was there for (to confirm that they

had the right guy before they cut his nuts off) and I kept kind of saying in a

low voice, "Bilateral orchiectomy." It is kind of embarrassing in a hosptial setting, you know?

I lay there on the damn gurney for another 45 minutes, reading my own chart out

of boredom. My doctor had come out a few times and told me he was just having

to wait around, too; apparently the hospital was all understaffed and shit and

he was pissed as hell himself, but he stayed cool about it, which is good. At

this point I was sleepy from laying around all day so said okay whatever,

just get it over with.

They wheeled me in and put the shit into my IV and I passed out, unfortunately missing all the good stuff. I had asked

if they would do it under local, and the reason he gave not to was pretty good but I can't remember what it was.

Around 8 or so

I woke up in post op, feeling mostly numb but like my left nut was being

squeezed. A buddy was supposed to come pick me up and had called the

umber I'd given him a few times over the course of the day, but since

I went into surgery,

oh, 6 and a half hours late, the waiting room had closed and he didn't know how

to find me, since the hospital staff was all going home and stupid.

They told me that I apparently had a "bronchial spasm," which I take to mean I

coughed, while under sedation and they had to put a tube down my throat, which

would explain why it feels like someone had been going at my throat

for the last

few hours with a toilet brush. Evidently the "spasms" also meant they had to

restrain me, which is likely why all my muscles feel like I just spent three

hours going head to head with Olga the East German Olympic Women's Wrestling

Champion.

I'm sitting there for an hour all groggy and shit, so don't mind, but around 9

I'm ready to go. My buddy hasn't found us yet, and they tell me that

they can't

let me leave until either somebody shows up to pick me up or a doctor signs me

out. The only urologist on duty is in surgery still and will be for another

hour.

I say fuck this and rip the IV out of my hand, put my clothes on, and tell them

that this is intolerable and I need to leave now. I refuse to be a prisoner,

I'm more than capable of going home on my own, and sitting around here is just

pissing me off. I mean, jeebus fuckin' christ, they already cut my nuts off,

now let me go the fuck home. Finally they say, okay, well, either we let him

leave or strap him down, so they let me go. As the nurse walks me to the

elevator, My boy strides around the corner looking lost, finally

having found us

after having wandering the halls for the last half hour.

We took off, stopped by mickey d's where, even though I was ravenous, I could

barely eat (I choked down maybe three of those nasty rubbery chicken fingers; I

expect tomorrow morning I'll have to use some restraint to avoid eating the

dog). I tried to fill my vicodan and antibiotic 'scripts at the "24-hour"

pharmacies in the area, but all of them had moved to holiday hours and were now

only open until 9, and now it was 10. Yay. Good thing I still have some

leftover percocets...

Anyway, I'm goin' to bed now. I'm feeling okay.

-----

Sat Morning:

Woke up sore as hell. Still feels like I got kicked in the nuts I no longer

have.

Doc called around 9:15 to make sure I was okay. Said he'd heard about

my little

piss fit in the post-op but just laughed and agreed that it was a bunch of

bullshit - they can't really keep you from leaving; they just don't like doing

it because the nurses have to do more paperwork. He also said that everything

had gone swimmingly (apparently the coughing/restraint wasn't all that unusual, especially for nicotine addicts like m'self)

and to call his office on Monday for a follow-up. I have to wear the scrotal

support thing for a week to keep fluid from accumulating in the sac, which it

already has a little bit - he said that's okay and expected, just keep wearing

the jock thing.

-----

Sun morning (about 6 AM):

Woke up at 5 and couldn't sleep anymore. Sac feels sore and itchy.

Painkillers

just kicked in so cords only barely noticeable. Have discovered that the

combination of Vicodin and marijuana makes for a very pleasant buzz and it

definitely enhances the painkilling effect. I like the Vicodin much more than

the Percocet's; it doesn't make me feel sick. Took the pills, smoked

a bowl and

went back to bed.

Woke up again around 10:30. Took a shower. Sac looks about the same - normal

from the top, like the nuts are still there, but from the front it looks like

the bottom half is missing. It's really just puckered in is all, and the fluid

in the sac is what makes it poke out at the sides. As it heals that

ought to go

away. I can definitely feel that they're gone now, though, and enjoy the

feeling after all the pain they caused.

-----

Mon night (9:23 PM)

Felt much better today. The muscular soreness is down to "day after serious

workout" instead of "lying on the ground puking after just having won the New

York marathon." My groin is more itchy than painful; the area around the

stitches is sore in that itchy-red-angry kind of way. There isn't much

swelling. I plan to go to work tomorrow, and will maybe take my painkillers

then. I don't really need them now, but, well, they're kind of nice to take.

Problem now is I seem to have caught a bit of a cold. My throat's still raw, I

dunno if from the intubation or the cold, and my sinuses are plugged up.

Otherwise I feel okay. Not coughing too much.

Standing or walking for a long time gets painful after awhile; I can feel the

blood in the cords and it tends to inflame them a bit. As a result, I took the

day off work and lay around watching TV and playing video games. The

painkillers help make TV interesting. Tried reading but had a hard time paying

attention.

-----

Thurs. Dec 30th

Got back from my parents' yesterday. By the 22nd, when I left to fly down

there, I wasn't really sore anymore, but I was having these horrible burning

shits. I think in retrospect it was likely from the stool softener things they

had me take. I'm glad I had them, at least at first, because man, when all my

muscles were really sore it was honestly difficult squeeze anything out. That

continued the entire time I was at home, and only got better yesterday when I

got back. The sore throat and cold went away at the same time. I think in

retrospect my sore throat and such was just allergies and the dry air.

I was fine the time I got to my parents'. I popped a stitch shoveling

snow, and

had a little bit of leakage out the left incision, but it wasn't much - just to

leave a nasty looking spot on my undies while I slept. It was a bit of pus, a

bit of blood (and luckily washed out).

The pain was pretty minor. I had absolutely no swelling or bruising, which I

attribute to having it done by a real doctor, as opposed to a cutter - better

technique etc. etc. It mostly just had that annoying itchy-soreness that you

get with stitches. There was also some ache in the stumps of the cords, which

kinda feels like sore nuts, but it was minor and eminently tolerable. I still

have a little bit of that now but it's been steadily decreasing in intensity.

I'm also pleased as this likely means I won't suffer any lasting nerve

pain from

the damage done to my balls, as that would totally suck.

Today I don't really feel much of the itchy soreness, and there's a little ache

in the right stump. It feels sort of like I have little miniballs in

there now.

Apparently they tie the cords in a knot since they have blood vessels in them

(otherwise it would bleed all into your sac). He said they'll shrink a bit but

there will always be something there. That's kinda too bad because I was

already thinking how much better it would look if I got the sac

trimmed off, but

maybe it's something that can be dealt with later.

I had my follow-up appointment with the doctor this afternoon as well. He just

checked it out and made sure everything was going okay, which it appears to be,

and said everything looked fine.

Overall I'm still happy with the results. After dealing with it since March

t's taken a long time to get through all this, but I'm mostly glad it's all

over and done with. Looking at the pictures I'm attaching with this,

things still look pretty nasty (plus my lily-white skin isn't exactly

the most photogenic), but the sac should tighten up a bit and things

look a lot less gross soon enough.

[george2u2 (imported)]

Patrick,

Your greatest story yet! Too bad it took me so long to find it.

Hospital staff is so nerve wracking, I was lucky to have Brian, I rescheduled a week earlier when work interfeared with the original schedule for Memorial Day week end,

That Damn doctor is taking the summer off to stay on Macinac Island. If I'd postponed that long I would have lost my nerve.

May your soccor team always win!

George2u2

[Zoroaster (imported)]

Hehe. And least erotic. It got worse; when i went in for the first stage scrotal removal (I go back to get the rest off in a few weeks) this one bitch nurse took my nape (back of neck) piercings out explicitly against my permission.

Anybody in new york: the nursing staff at St. Luke's/Roosevelt suck.

[Paolo]

Z.,

Glad to hear you're still with us and doing OK.

I'm beginning to wonder if nursing and med. schools DO teach a class in arrogance and get graded on their ability to be assholes?!

[Dave (imported)]

I'm a bit hazy on the concept of

"giving head to

Olga the East German Olympic Women's Wrestling Champion

"

Could you explain that some more? ... please ...

I hope all is ok now, seom doctors and hospitals are such idiots about these things.

[Zoroaster (imported)]

I think ya misread that one, buddy..."going head to head," not "giving head." Ugh...my tongue in a woman? Bleah. Even if her clit had popped out and grown a trunk. Ick...

And let me make this clear: my current urologist is awesome. He's responsive, he listens, he's willing to help solve my problems. The other fuck I was seeing at first was, I'm pretty sure, just scamming my insurance company for endless tests and crap, and clearly had some issues - I mean, come on, he accused me of bragging about how big my nuts were? What the hell?

I'm not aiming this at anyone in particular, but so many people here seem to think all doctors suck. They're people, guys. They make mistakes, same as anybody else, some are good, some are not, some are scam artists (like that first ass). The vast majority of the problems I had here was that i was too complacent about my doctor, and didn't go find another one when I should have (after the second visit, when he still wouldn't prescribe me hormones).

Anyway, an update for the curious...

That stitch I popped shovelling snow turned into a nasty pus-leaking hole for about two months. Antibiotics helped some, and by the time I went in for the scrotoplasty (sp?) it had healed up.

My experience with the hospital staff during the scrotoplasty was nearly as awful as during the original surgery...I didn't have to wait around forever this time (just a few hours...hooray Game Boy) but this bitch nurse took my nape piercings out against my will, claiming the cautery gun could somehow arc current up to my neck from my groin and burn me.

I told her straight up she was full of shit. While that is statistically not unpossible, the chances are about as great as quantum uncertainty causing all the electrons in your body to spontaneously relocate to the Andromeda galaxy (afterward I did calculate the odds. I wasn't really exaggerating all that much, it turned out).

Anyway, I still have a bit of scrot left that'll come off in another few weeks, but just under a local - no friggin' hospital trip. The doc said it's not unusual for it to take two tries; scrotal removal is not a common thing (as most guys either want implants or are transexuals and need it to fake labia later).

[Dave (imported)]

oooh - so Olga in leather ain't an option? (giggle, chuckle) I guess you're too young to remember all those East German "gals" in the Olympics who had the extra high testosterone levels and the other ones who had funny chromosones (XY) and hairy backs. They really wanted those gold medals.

And as Joel GRey once said - "Each and Every One a Virgin"

<<ALERT ALERT medical stuff>>

When my appendix decided to go bad, I had three operations on Mondays - a week apart

an appendectomy, an operation for adhesions and blockages and finally a plication (I think that's the spelling) and they left an incisional hernia about four inches long and two wide. I had regular sutures, fishing line sutures, and three huge wire sutures on an incision that took four months to heal. Changed that dressing three times a day. It was 11 inches long and about three inches wide. I could watch the small intestines moved as they digested food. The scar looked like something Frankenstein stitched together. It was a great conversation piece.

The surgical floor admitted me and the Rehab floor got made at me for doing that. They didn't speak to me for three years.

Three years later, I had five and a half hours of surgery to close the hernia and woke with 44 staples in my tummy. For three months after that, fishingline plastic sutures floated to the surface.

And that wasn't my only stay -

So my attitude about hospitals is, shall we say, poor. .. ...

[george2u2 (imported)]

Dad's wisdom:

Avoid skunks, Bankers, Doctors, and lawyers!

[A-1 (imported)]

I'm beginning to wonder if nursing and med. schools DO teach a class in arrogance and get graded on their ability to be assholes?!

Paolo,

That class is a pre-requsite. You must ace it before admission.

A-1

[Patient (imported)]

. . .

so many people here seem to think all doctors suck. They're people, guys. .

.

Right on the mark. I think it was Dear Abby who observed that few of us seem to realize that about half of the doctors in practice graduated in the bottom halves of their classes.

Best wishes!