Bilateral. That means two sides. It is the term that was added to my consent form prior to my surgery. I was initially scheduled to get one side done, but there were minor concerns with the other. “Might as well get both while we are at it and you are under anesthesia” says my surgeon. “Yep, might as well I guess”, says I. It was that easy. Fucker up-sold me like I had just bought a big TV and he was throwing in some extra cables.
A three-year-old little boy was examining his testicles while taking a bath.
“Mum,” he asked, “are these my brains?”
“Not yet,” replied his mother
When you are talking to a doctor they tell you a lot of stuff, but never quite enough to reassure you completely. I can attest that you develop very selective hearing during these conversations. In discussion with my surgeon and his resident we went over a lot of information about my condition and treatment. Out of all of that only a few things really dug into my sub-conscience and stayed with me: “chronic pain”, “atrophy”, and “removal of the testicle”. There were a bunch of words that surrounded those phrases, and really, those other words were key in maintaining the context of the phrases, and had I kept them in mind may have provided some reassurance. Laying in bed at night I have to tell you that it was those few nuggets that really stuck out though.
I am happy and relieved to relate that I am no longer quietly freaking out. I now have no part of my anatomy that resembles a purple Nerf ball trying to eat a hot dog, so things are definitely on the up-swing.


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