My bloodless castration with speaker wire
Posted: Sun Jul 22, 2007 8:37 pm
I decided I wanted castration a few months before I discovered I was HIV+ in May of 1987. But I no sooner made that decision than I got a slew of misinformation from my doctor and a priest about castration. That misinformation caused me to change my mind rather quickly. It didnt cause me to loose my acceptance of the idea, though.
I kept on masturbating three times a week in spite of church teaching and my attempt to be a faithful Catholic. Occasionally, I had a sex partner. Affairs never worked out for me as a gay musician; most men hated my occasional poverty too much and wanted me to sell shoes or flip burgers instead. In any event, after getting a steady job as a cab driver in a big city, I didnt have time for a social life on top of occasional piano jobs that included one gig with Oprah Winfrey.
Apparently, my sexual problem was all above my neck in spite of what common sense had known for centuries about the male sex drive. If my regular masturbation did something positive for me, I dont know what that is. I guess it proved to me that self control is not all in the mind. In my opinion, we still have too much faith in Freud.
After realizing last March that self control cant possibly be all in the mind, I decided to check out what was said on the Internet about castration. Within a day, I was again convinced that castration was for me. It did lower the sex drive; my doctor was wrong back in 1987. Apparently, it couldnt be against church teaching if the Vatican employed castrati at the Sistine Chapel; the priest was wrong. My study went much deeper, but you get the picture.
I was filled with rage at the misinformation that I had been handed twenty years earlier. It also enraged me that everyone who resisted me in castration seemed to know for certain that I wasnt a remorseful child molester or maybe even another Jeffrey Dahmer who just hadnt been caught. But yet many also supported me; one was my social worker. Unfortunately, none of my supporters were urologists.
Had I been castrated as a teen or younger as I wanted, I never would have ended up HIV+. I have a little cousin who studies music; he has been clearly attracted to the same sex since birth. I wonder what is best for him. We need to discuss this as a society.
After wrangling and waiting for months, I finally had my first appointment in June with a shrink about my desire for surgical castration. This Mexican-born shrinkwho also holds a US state licensewas totally supportive within minutes of speaking with me. Most of those who support me have always been Mexican. Why? But understandably, no supporter wanted me to do the job myself.
This shrink promised a letter would be ready for me the following month at my second appointment with him. That second appointment was last Friday, July 20, at 2:15. But the Tuesday before this second appointment with my supportive shrink, both my urologist and my GP had their first telephone conversation with each other. In this conversation they decided that NO MAN should be castrated--even an HIV+ man like me--for sexual self control. Knowing I was HIV+, my GP had even offered me Viagra last February. Mmmm. Would YOU trust his judgment?
This was the second time the urologist team that had initially expressed support seemed to change their minds. It was the first time my GP changed his mind although he was never totally supportive from the beginning. Clearly, I had had enough running around. Not only that, I began to wonder if Medicaid, my only insurance, would pay for the simple operation. Just making the arrangements seemed to be a constant merry-go-round that I didnt need.
So Thursday afternoon after devouring all the information that I could find about DIY castration on the Internet (including here) since last March, I decided to use an $25 elastrator I had ordered over the Internet in May. Other than passing out from the pain, it seemed my biggest risk would happen if I did not constrict blood vessels as tightly as possible before cutting with my sterilized Exacto. I also decided that I would avoid infection when cutting by being sure that the elastrator band would be ABOVE anything I had cut with the Exacto. I had Polysporin and Provodine Iodine (suggested by an emergency worker) ready to go. I didn't want to cut and thought of every way I could avoid it.
I planned to use three bands, folding back the dead scrotum inside out and up over the lowest band and holding the inside out scrotum in place with the middle band. How could the top band slip off like that? It would also make the daily washing of the dead skin and application of Polysporin in the low opening easier.
Before proceeding, I prayed and thought and thought and prayed while reviewing all the warnings I had heard and read. I decided I would not be too proud to go to ER if things went wrong. Thankfully, I never showed up there though today I am a eunuch--or so it seems. At least I know now how to castrate myself with only short term pain and very little risk. I'm surprised no one has mentioned my method beforethat iswhat I discovered by accident. It basically amounts to a combination of using a Burdizzo and elastrator. Yet there is no bloodletting at all to this method I discovered. And like Martha Stewart says, Thats a good thing. But back to my story. . .
Much to my chagrin, I discovered late Thursday that I could not even get one testicle, ONE TESTICLE through the opening in my $25 elastrator! Were my balls THAT big?
After a few hours of experimenting with different items off my body, I decided to use speaker wire to cause my testicles to go numb (and hopefully bloodless) and then cut off my balls and immediately put on the small, hard rubber band around my testicles using the elastrator. It seemed terribly risky, but I was emotionally ready for a trip to the ER.
The speaker wire was especially appealing because like telephone cords or other similar rope-like objects, it has the strength of wire but the safety of a plastic coating; metal cutting the skin over a period of time can be very risky. Both components made slippage next to impossible but would give me the needed ability to change the position of the speaker wire around my balls in case I needed it. It is important to place the speaker wire low enough. One must get as close to the balls as possible so that there is enough scrotum to accommodate future erections.
But believe it or not, I discovered that by simply knotting one four-foot long strand of split speaker wire (it comes in one plastic casing around two sets of multiple, tiny copper wire strands) around my ball sack, and pulling it tight with all my might, I inadvertently castrated myself. Im sure one could also accomplish the same thing by twistingusing a torque technique if one doesn't know how to make a simple knot that doesn't slip. (Loop the end through your first "O" more than once.) Therefore, no severing of any typecutting or bandingis necessary it seems. And a Burdizzo works too quickly. There is a good reason for the short time of a Burdizzo if you think about large numbers of livestock that many ranchers have to deal with.
We know that castration can be accomplished without cutting because of a Burdizzo. But I think the extremely short time with a Burdizzo is the cause of so many problems men have with it. Why not try to accomplish the same, fundamental thing with much more time and much more control? After all, a Burdizzo is made to do one beast after another and most of us have the time to do the job slowly and to do it right.
From about 10 pm Thursday night to about 4 am Friday morning, I kept tightening the speaker wire around my ball sack. I would tighten till I felt a little pain and then wait twenty minutes or so until the sack went numb and I could tighten it again. I repeated this process maybe a dozen times. Im not sure of the number of times I tightened because I didn't count them. I did get to the point where my ball sack was numb.
For the first few hours, the sensation almost seemed pleasant but around 1:30 am, pain gradually came to that entire area of my body. It began to crescendo to fever pitch, going from a one to ten on a scale of one to ten in less than an hour.
It is extremely important here to note that the intense pain I first felt was INTERNAL. That is, the pain was clearly in my spermatic cords and not in my pinched scrotum.
I suspect that pain is an important indicator here and I would not advise trying to avoid it too much. I had a strong sense that this intense internal pain was taking me past the point of no return. It was naturally telling me exactly where the damage was taking place. Nonetheless, I took two Aleve. Would I have missed that "tell-all" pain if I had taken the painkillers sooner?
Within the normal time it takes for those pills to work, the pain subsided back to the very low point in the beginning though I did not loosen the speaker wire around my scrotum; I kept it on. My balls had become numb on the outside. Where they numb on the inside? I'll never know. All in all, I would say that I experienced intense pain for about 90 minutes. I kept thinking of those who experience intense pain non-stop from back injuries and so on.
For some reason, I always sensed that I could handle long-term pain that involved taking off a device as opposed to the intense, quick, and chancy pain of a Burdizzo. I suspect I am not the only who feels that way. I guess it has a lot to do with control.
But by 4:00 am, a strong and different pain began to come back. But this time it was a different type of pain, as if my scrotum was suffering irreversible damage. I had a strong sense that I should take off the speaker wire and rethink my strategy. I took off the speaker wire and the second pain session quickly left me. I jumped into bed and fell asleep.
After I awoke, I slowly began to realize that I had castrated myself. And there had been no blood, therefore no risk of infection and most importantly, no risk of bleeding to death. I felt good enough to keep my appointment with my shrink. Would I tell him what I had done a few hours before?
I arrived 15 minutes early. Believe it or not, there was no one in the waiting room. "Come on in!" my doctor ordered.
We discussed politics, his favorite subject. After some discussion of how glad he was to give me a letter recommending an orchidectomy, I told him it might not be necessary. I explained what had recently happened with my GP and urologist. After a while I told him about what I done earlier that morning with speaker wire.
"Did you break the skin?" he asked casually.
"No," I told him.
Thats good.
I know thats where the greatest danger lies: drawing blood by cutting yourself. I then went around his desk, dropped my pants and showed him my scrotum from three feet away.
"They look fine to me," he observed. He looked closer. "I barely see the mark of the speaker wire around them." He looked closer. Im not sure I do see it.
"How did I do it?" I asked him. I mean, what part of the spermatic cord did I injure?
"What you probably did was cut off the blood supply through the arteries long enough to cause your testicles to die. We'll see. If thats what happened, they will get smaller.
He blithely changed the subject somewhat. But let me know if you still need that letter. I will stand behind you because I am convinced that you should have the operation if you need it." We talked a bit more about how stupid and chicken those guys in the medical community are about the subject. Though all psychiatrists are certified medical doctors, this one offered no lectures about any great risks that I took. He almost seemed as proud of me as I was of myself.
Even though it's only 48 hours since I took off the speaker wire, I know my sex drive is far more dead than normal. I am exhibiting all the symptoms of castration: less sweating, eunuch calm, occasional throbbing in the scrotum, etc. In any event, I can't help but think that another episode like the one that I started Thursday night could only move me closer to my goal just in case this doesnt work out. Im convinced my testicles are badly injured if they are havent started down Atrophy Road to Deadsville.
Its too bad there isnt more information out there to save others and me from possible permanent injury. But nothing in life is perfect except Barbra Streisand. I guess the worst that can happen is that I will need an operation to correct my mistakes; then my insurance will more than likely pay for it. What a drag!
In any case, I want to thank all those who have shared what wisdom they have on this site and others. It is only by comparing notes and speaking freely about this subject that castration wannabes and society at large will be more able to make well-informed decisions about this or any other subject.
I know some fools will say that I am lucky. But I suspect those are the same fools who say Im merely talented by nature at music even after spending 42 years of practice and study on the subject. Genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration, they say. So let's keep perspiring.
I kept on masturbating three times a week in spite of church teaching and my attempt to be a faithful Catholic. Occasionally, I had a sex partner. Affairs never worked out for me as a gay musician; most men hated my occasional poverty too much and wanted me to sell shoes or flip burgers instead. In any event, after getting a steady job as a cab driver in a big city, I didnt have time for a social life on top of occasional piano jobs that included one gig with Oprah Winfrey.
Apparently, my sexual problem was all above my neck in spite of what common sense had known for centuries about the male sex drive. If my regular masturbation did something positive for me, I dont know what that is. I guess it proved to me that self control is not all in the mind. In my opinion, we still have too much faith in Freud.
After realizing last March that self control cant possibly be all in the mind, I decided to check out what was said on the Internet about castration. Within a day, I was again convinced that castration was for me. It did lower the sex drive; my doctor was wrong back in 1987. Apparently, it couldnt be against church teaching if the Vatican employed castrati at the Sistine Chapel; the priest was wrong. My study went much deeper, but you get the picture.
I was filled with rage at the misinformation that I had been handed twenty years earlier. It also enraged me that everyone who resisted me in castration seemed to know for certain that I wasnt a remorseful child molester or maybe even another Jeffrey Dahmer who just hadnt been caught. But yet many also supported me; one was my social worker. Unfortunately, none of my supporters were urologists.
Had I been castrated as a teen or younger as I wanted, I never would have ended up HIV+. I have a little cousin who studies music; he has been clearly attracted to the same sex since birth. I wonder what is best for him. We need to discuss this as a society.
After wrangling and waiting for months, I finally had my first appointment in June with a shrink about my desire for surgical castration. This Mexican-born shrinkwho also holds a US state licensewas totally supportive within minutes of speaking with me. Most of those who support me have always been Mexican. Why? But understandably, no supporter wanted me to do the job myself.
This shrink promised a letter would be ready for me the following month at my second appointment with him. That second appointment was last Friday, July 20, at 2:15. But the Tuesday before this second appointment with my supportive shrink, both my urologist and my GP had their first telephone conversation with each other. In this conversation they decided that NO MAN should be castrated--even an HIV+ man like me--for sexual self control. Knowing I was HIV+, my GP had even offered me Viagra last February. Mmmm. Would YOU trust his judgment?
This was the second time the urologist team that had initially expressed support seemed to change their minds. It was the first time my GP changed his mind although he was never totally supportive from the beginning. Clearly, I had had enough running around. Not only that, I began to wonder if Medicaid, my only insurance, would pay for the simple operation. Just making the arrangements seemed to be a constant merry-go-round that I didnt need.
So Thursday afternoon after devouring all the information that I could find about DIY castration on the Internet (including here) since last March, I decided to use an $25 elastrator I had ordered over the Internet in May. Other than passing out from the pain, it seemed my biggest risk would happen if I did not constrict blood vessels as tightly as possible before cutting with my sterilized Exacto. I also decided that I would avoid infection when cutting by being sure that the elastrator band would be ABOVE anything I had cut with the Exacto. I had Polysporin and Provodine Iodine (suggested by an emergency worker) ready to go. I didn't want to cut and thought of every way I could avoid it.
I planned to use three bands, folding back the dead scrotum inside out and up over the lowest band and holding the inside out scrotum in place with the middle band. How could the top band slip off like that? It would also make the daily washing of the dead skin and application of Polysporin in the low opening easier.
Before proceeding, I prayed and thought and thought and prayed while reviewing all the warnings I had heard and read. I decided I would not be too proud to go to ER if things went wrong. Thankfully, I never showed up there though today I am a eunuch--or so it seems. At least I know now how to castrate myself with only short term pain and very little risk. I'm surprised no one has mentioned my method beforethat iswhat I discovered by accident. It basically amounts to a combination of using a Burdizzo and elastrator. Yet there is no bloodletting at all to this method I discovered. And like Martha Stewart says, Thats a good thing. But back to my story. . .
Much to my chagrin, I discovered late Thursday that I could not even get one testicle, ONE TESTICLE through the opening in my $25 elastrator! Were my balls THAT big?
After a few hours of experimenting with different items off my body, I decided to use speaker wire to cause my testicles to go numb (and hopefully bloodless) and then cut off my balls and immediately put on the small, hard rubber band around my testicles using the elastrator. It seemed terribly risky, but I was emotionally ready for a trip to the ER.
The speaker wire was especially appealing because like telephone cords or other similar rope-like objects, it has the strength of wire but the safety of a plastic coating; metal cutting the skin over a period of time can be very risky. Both components made slippage next to impossible but would give me the needed ability to change the position of the speaker wire around my balls in case I needed it. It is important to place the speaker wire low enough. One must get as close to the balls as possible so that there is enough scrotum to accommodate future erections.
But believe it or not, I discovered that by simply knotting one four-foot long strand of split speaker wire (it comes in one plastic casing around two sets of multiple, tiny copper wire strands) around my ball sack, and pulling it tight with all my might, I inadvertently castrated myself. Im sure one could also accomplish the same thing by twistingusing a torque technique if one doesn't know how to make a simple knot that doesn't slip. (Loop the end through your first "O" more than once.) Therefore, no severing of any typecutting or bandingis necessary it seems. And a Burdizzo works too quickly. There is a good reason for the short time of a Burdizzo if you think about large numbers of livestock that many ranchers have to deal with.
We know that castration can be accomplished without cutting because of a Burdizzo. But I think the extremely short time with a Burdizzo is the cause of so many problems men have with it. Why not try to accomplish the same, fundamental thing with much more time and much more control? After all, a Burdizzo is made to do one beast after another and most of us have the time to do the job slowly and to do it right.
From about 10 pm Thursday night to about 4 am Friday morning, I kept tightening the speaker wire around my ball sack. I would tighten till I felt a little pain and then wait twenty minutes or so until the sack went numb and I could tighten it again. I repeated this process maybe a dozen times. Im not sure of the number of times I tightened because I didn't count them. I did get to the point where my ball sack was numb.
For the first few hours, the sensation almost seemed pleasant but around 1:30 am, pain gradually came to that entire area of my body. It began to crescendo to fever pitch, going from a one to ten on a scale of one to ten in less than an hour.
It is extremely important here to note that the intense pain I first felt was INTERNAL. That is, the pain was clearly in my spermatic cords and not in my pinched scrotum.
I suspect that pain is an important indicator here and I would not advise trying to avoid it too much. I had a strong sense that this intense internal pain was taking me past the point of no return. It was naturally telling me exactly where the damage was taking place. Nonetheless, I took two Aleve. Would I have missed that "tell-all" pain if I had taken the painkillers sooner?
Within the normal time it takes for those pills to work, the pain subsided back to the very low point in the beginning though I did not loosen the speaker wire around my scrotum; I kept it on. My balls had become numb on the outside. Where they numb on the inside? I'll never know. All in all, I would say that I experienced intense pain for about 90 minutes. I kept thinking of those who experience intense pain non-stop from back injuries and so on.
For some reason, I always sensed that I could handle long-term pain that involved taking off a device as opposed to the intense, quick, and chancy pain of a Burdizzo. I suspect I am not the only who feels that way. I guess it has a lot to do with control.
But by 4:00 am, a strong and different pain began to come back. But this time it was a different type of pain, as if my scrotum was suffering irreversible damage. I had a strong sense that I should take off the speaker wire and rethink my strategy. I took off the speaker wire and the second pain session quickly left me. I jumped into bed and fell asleep.
After I awoke, I slowly began to realize that I had castrated myself. And there had been no blood, therefore no risk of infection and most importantly, no risk of bleeding to death. I felt good enough to keep my appointment with my shrink. Would I tell him what I had done a few hours before?
I arrived 15 minutes early. Believe it or not, there was no one in the waiting room. "Come on in!" my doctor ordered.
We discussed politics, his favorite subject. After some discussion of how glad he was to give me a letter recommending an orchidectomy, I told him it might not be necessary. I explained what had recently happened with my GP and urologist. After a while I told him about what I done earlier that morning with speaker wire.
"Did you break the skin?" he asked casually.
"No," I told him.
Thats good.
I know thats where the greatest danger lies: drawing blood by cutting yourself. I then went around his desk, dropped my pants and showed him my scrotum from three feet away.
"They look fine to me," he observed. He looked closer. "I barely see the mark of the speaker wire around them." He looked closer. Im not sure I do see it.
"How did I do it?" I asked him. I mean, what part of the spermatic cord did I injure?
"What you probably did was cut off the blood supply through the arteries long enough to cause your testicles to die. We'll see. If thats what happened, they will get smaller.
He blithely changed the subject somewhat. But let me know if you still need that letter. I will stand behind you because I am convinced that you should have the operation if you need it." We talked a bit more about how stupid and chicken those guys in the medical community are about the subject. Though all psychiatrists are certified medical doctors, this one offered no lectures about any great risks that I took. He almost seemed as proud of me as I was of myself.
Even though it's only 48 hours since I took off the speaker wire, I know my sex drive is far more dead than normal. I am exhibiting all the symptoms of castration: less sweating, eunuch calm, occasional throbbing in the scrotum, etc. In any event, I can't help but think that another episode like the one that I started Thursday night could only move me closer to my goal just in case this doesnt work out. Im convinced my testicles are badly injured if they are havent started down Atrophy Road to Deadsville.
Its too bad there isnt more information out there to save others and me from possible permanent injury. But nothing in life is perfect except Barbra Streisand. I guess the worst that can happen is that I will need an operation to correct my mistakes; then my insurance will more than likely pay for it. What a drag!
In any case, I want to thank all those who have shared what wisdom they have on this site and others. It is only by comparing notes and speaking freely about this subject that castration wannabes and society at large will be more able to make well-informed decisions about this or any other subject.
I know some fools will say that I am lucky. But I suspect those are the same fools who say Im merely talented by nature at music even after spending 42 years of practice and study on the subject. Genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration, they say. So let's keep perspiring.