“Uh oh.” That’s something you never want to hear from a doctor. It’s especially something you never want to hear from a doctor when you’re a teenage kid because then you’re still full of life and hope and happiness. When you go from avoiding mirrors at 16, to ogling yourself too long at them at 17, you’re thinking you’re at the top of the world. You’re thinking nothing can stop you, nothing will stop you, minus all your insecurities built up until then. However, those insecurities are mental blocks, not physical ailments. So yeah, you think if you’d go to a psychiatrist maybe they’ll diagnose something wrong with you, but you never consider anything wrong could be happening with you physically. Hell, you have the first barely there impression of a six pack. You went on a date with a girl! Half of your fashion sense is Puma apparel. You’re on top of the world.
“Uh oh,” the doctor said while he had my nuts in his hand. When you’re 17, your biggest concern with a physical is if you’re going to get an erection from a medical professional handling your unit and be defined as “gay.” It was the late 90s (or around 2007) and homophobia was still sadly rampant, and looking back, we were a bunch of little insensitive, ignorant shits.
Here’s an addendum three days later. I wrote this on a Friday morning when I was freaking out about the future and my upcoming doctor’s appointment with a urologist. That appointment is today and I’ll be leaving in less than an hour. This post did help me in that it alleviated some of the anxiety, along with me rambling on during long voice notes and voice mails as well. I was going to make a whole commentary about how this topic is far different than the 90s Richard Gere thriller film in which it’s named, and more about the primal instinct of insecurity regarding procreation and blah blah blah. I realize this post did it’s job and there’s really no point in posting it all. However, I did mention to my mother that I’d be writing a post about my testicles and I thought it’d be funny that she might be the only person to read it. It’s still funny and I’m going to think about that instead of this impending appointment. So it goes.