When I was a youngster, my brother and I lived in Montgomery Al. Behind our neighborhood was a maze of drainage ditches sunk several feet down in the ground. We spent many hours exploring these tunnels and generally shirking household chores whenever possible.
One time, while with a group of other boys, we discovered a locked wooden box in a smaller side tunnel. The lock was solid enough, but the box was made of thin plywood. Naturally, a bunch of boys would want to know what was in such a mysterious box and it only took a couple of “drops” on the concrete floor of the ditch to crack it open. What spilled out of the box was nothing short of every teen-age boys’ dreams…
It was full of porn magazines! There must have been a hundred of them; all varieties, all types. I don’t have to tell you what we did with these magazines. Suffice it to say that getting us to go outside and play wasn’t hard for our parents for a couple of weeks afterwards. About a month later, some retard took those magazines and ripped out a bunch of pages and spread them out along the road. I’m sure some of the older boys, like my brother, had by then absconded with a few magazines for their own edification, but I had not and for me, the fun was over. I say all that to illustrate that at a young age, I had a pretty good understanding of anatomy. I mean, I knew MY anatomy (cough, cough…intimately) and after that, I knew the basics about women.
Well last night as I was putting the boys in the tub, MLE, standing naked beside the tub, suddenly reached down to touch himself like most toddler boys will, and after grasping “down there,” he looked down and then started whailing like a banshee. I immediately looked to see what was wrong. There was nothing apparently wrong though; no diaper rash, no obvious boo-boos, nothin! I thought maybe he just wanted in the tub, so I put him in where he continued to cry on and off for the duration. I took him out and put his jammies on and he cried the whole time while also reaching for himself and acting like he was in pain.
My first panicky thought was “testicular torsion.” It’s where the blood supply to one testicle gets crimped off, or they flip, which also cuts off the supply. I had a friend in high school that had this happen during P.E. and they just got him to the hospital in time to save his manhood. There’s about a 6-hour window from the time it happens, to getting it surgically corrected before saving the testicle becomes a near impossibility.
Not wanting to completely panic, I figured I’d offer him his nightly bottle because it WAS nearly bedtime and I thought that maybe he just hit a wall. He went down quietly and slept through the night and this morning he was happy as a lark. So luckily, no “torsion.”
But this got me thinking about how little I actually know about physical development. I had to go online to find out if his testicles had even um…dropped yet. Because when I looked, one minute they looked like they were there, the next moment they seemed drawn up. I read online that this is common, so maybe that’s what happened and for whatever reason, it hurt.
I now suspect that something else was going on and I’ll tell it from his point of view:
“Yaaah, bath-time! Man, I LOVE bath-time. Hurry up daddy, get the water ready…cuz I’m freezing my balls off.
Speaking of my balls…wait…what? Where’s my balls? Where’s my balls?
OH MY GOD! SOMEBODY STOLE MY BALLS! AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
I probably should have warned you…