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I owe my life to Coach Mancini and I should more grateful to him than I am. He deserves it. It's only that my life now is so worthless, that I don't feel that it ought to have been saved. I am an entering freshman at Rutledge University in Indiana. During the second week of the Fall semester, it rained heavily so that we couldn't use the athletic field. Coach Mancini decided that that was a good time to start his occasional lectures on health and hygeine. The topic for the first lesson was Self-examination. He pointed out that testicular cancer had become alramingly frequent among young men and that, if untreated, it would lead to fatal lung cancer. "Three years ago, we lost our star basketball player, Jake Johnson, to cancer that started in his testicles and wasn't detected in time. It's easy to detect. There should be no lumps, especially hard ones, in your testicles. Every one of you should feel his testicles once a week for lumps. If you find one, see a doctor immediately ! Testicular cancer is curable, if caught soon enough." I decided to check mine immediately. After class, I sat on the toilet in the john and felt my balls. I almost fainted. There were large hard lumps in both of them. I wondered why they didn't hurt, but I've learned since that testicular cancer is often painless in the early stages. I rushed down to the Infirmary and told Dr. Shaw what I'd discovered. He felt my balls and looked very grave as he told me, "There are tumors in both testicles, three in the left and two in the right. All of them are hard and they don't feel like any benign tumor I've ever encountered. I'm going to try to set up an appointment with an oncologist for you today." I felt faint, and I think I actually blacked out for a moment after he told me that. He was able to get me an appointment for 2:00 PM with Dr. Abraham Ironstone. "We're lucky to have Dr. Ironstone in this city. He's one of the three best oncologists in the Midwest. If you have any classes this afternoon, cut them. I'll have the administration notify your teachers that this is a medical emergency, which I really think it is." I took the rapid transit into the city and was in Dr. Ironstone's waiting room by 1:50. He saw me at 2:20. For the third time that day, my balls were felt, this time even more painstakingly. "I don't like this." said Dr. Ironstone. "Even if they were benign, which I doubt, they would soon impair testicular function. I"m going to do a biopsy on each of the tumors. I should have the lab results in about four days. " The doctor injected a local anesthetic into my balls and, a few minutes later did the biopsies with a gadget which looks like a cross between a large hypodermic syringe and a nail gun. I'm sure that, without anesthesia, it would have hurt like HELL. Five biopsy samples were taken. I was given pain pills to take when the anesthetic wore off and told to go to bed for the rest of the day. Luckily, I got back to my room before the anesthetic wore off. When it did, I felt as if I'd been kicked in the balls very hard. The pain pills helped and I managed to get some sleep, as much as I could for worrying about my balls. The next day, though, they were still so sore that I had to wear a jockstrap just to get around. That was the first of the four days that I had to sweat out the biopsies. I couldn't think about anything else and I couldn't concentrate in class. I might just as well not have gone. " My God, what if they have to cut them off ? I won't be good for anything without balls. Shit, I'm still a virgin. Maybe I'll never get laid." These thoughts ran around and around in my brain and, by the time I finally got a phone call from Dr. Ironstone's office, I was emotionally exhausted. I was to see him that afternoon at 3:30. As before, I was a little early, but this time he wasn't late. There were two doctors in Dr. Ironstone's office. Dr. Ironstone introduced the other, a small bald-headed man with a thin moustache. "This is Dr. Bloomingvale. He is an urological surgeon." That didn't sound good at all. Dr. Ironstone shuffled some papers and then gave me the report of the biopsies. " The lab results show that all five of the tumors are malignant, and of a particularly aggressive type which has proved resistant to chemotherapy. Ordinarily, we would remove one testicle and try to use conservative measures, radiation and/or chemotherapy on the other.The dosages of radiation which these tumors would require would destroy the testicle. Therefore, much though I hate to tell any man this, your testicles cannot be saved." "Alright'" I said, "So, I won't have any kids. Can I take hormone replacement therapy ?" Dr. Ironstone shook his head . "Not, at least, right away. Perhaps not for several years. There is a distinct possibility that these aggressive tumors have metastasized already . If they have, testosterone would foster the growth of the metastases. In fact, and I'm sure that you'll consider this to be adding insult to injury, it will be necessary for you to take female sex hormones for an indeterminate length of time until we can be sure that you are free of cancer." "Oh God", I moaned "What will that do to me ?" "Are you sure you want to know right now ? asked Dr. Ironstone. "I'd rather that than have it come as an unpleasant surprise" , I replied . "Very well," said Dr. Ironstone. "Your facial hair will stop growing and most of your body hair will fall out. You will lose about 50% of your muscular strength and stamina and your muscles will soften and become sheathed in fat. Fat will also accumulate under your skin, softening the contours of your body. Thicker deposits of fat will accumulate on the thighs, hips, and buttocks. There will be significant gynecomastia, that is, you will grow breasts which may become rather conspicuous. On the other hand, inasmuch as you will soon become completely impotent, your penis will atrophy from disuse. There will also be changes in your personality. You will become less assertive, less competitive, and less aggressive. Initially, there will be depression, but this can be treated. You will not be as sexually frustrated as you imagine, though. Your libido will be greatly reduced, probably to about 5% of its present level. "OK, how much of this is reversible if and when I get a chance to take testosterone ?" "Almost all, though the breasts may require mastectomy." "Will this female hormone treatment turn me queer ?" "I doubt it. You won't have much of any sex urge. There's no need to fear that if and when it returns you would be homosexual. I must admit, though that I have heard of cases in which the patient, while on female sex hormones, became accustomed to passive anal sex and retained this interest afterward." "OK, when do I have to have all this done ?" I asked. "We're going to admit you to the hospital today, have you prepared for surgery, and Dr. Bloomingvale will operate on Monday morning. Isn't that right, Jethro ?" Dr. Bloomingvale nodded. "The actual operation will take only about an hour. You should be ready to return to Rutledge by Tuesday afternoon. However, you'll have to remain abed at the Infirmary there for another five days." Well, it all went as planned. I was castrated on Monday morning, shot full of female hormones, and returned to the Infirmary at Rutledge on Tuesday afternoon with a vial of Premarin tablets to take daily. The Infirmary had the necessary antibiotics and pain pills and they changed my dressings daily . I became depressed as predicted and was given Effexor, which I didn't consider very effective. After he got the bill from his health insurance for castrating me, Dad came down to Rutledge to see me. He was a bit pissed off that I hadn't written him about it, but understood my reluctance to discuss it.After I got over my depression, I did pretty well in my classes, but I didn't take P.E. any more. I visited Coach Mancini and thanked him, rather insincerely, I'm afrand, for saving my life. Everything Dr. Ironstone predicted has come to pass. I've got B-cup boobs and should wear a bra. At the other end, I have a six-year-old's dick which I use only for pissing. I feel as empty as I am down below. The lab tests suggest that there are still tumors, apparently inactive, somewhere, so no testosterone yet and continue the Premarin. I've often seen eunuchs described as "wretched", "unhappy", or "miserable." Now I know why. I have become subdued and submissive. I envy well-hung guys, and I think I'm becoming attracted to them. Shit ! |