The 4 B's of my surgery: Bloated, black and blue balls!

The Bitch

Medically speaking, I am a fairly sound vessel. After 14 years without a trip to have my general "okay-ness" checked by a medical professional, I can boast a cholesterol level of 167 and no real issues other than I need to lose about 10 lbs.

GO ME, MOFO's! I ain't even tryin!

But what I seem to overachieve at, medically speaking, is getting hernia'.  After the inside's on my left side began making an appearance on the outside, I was poised for my first real need to visit a doctor in 14 years (you knew that if you were reading earlier).  During the exam, it turns out that not only do I have a gaping hole on my left side, but a couple others. One small one on the right and a little fellow just above my belly-button. I need to have my own show on Bravo. Fuck those midgets and multiple birthers, how about the guy with a gaggle of hernia's?  Now that's good television.

The procedure is now the single most performed surgery in the nation (and maybe the world) and men (I'm one of them) make up 75% of all inguinal hernia surgeries. But let's be frank, I'm not here to blather about numbers and statistic's. I'm here, blogging about the ugly, bloated and discolored side of the hernia operation that no one tells you about.  In a word................. MY NUTS! (okay, that's two words, but really, who's counting?)

Yep, that's what you, my friends, have gotten yourself into. Read no further if the discussion of my massive, multi-hued man sack is offensive or gut wrenching, because this, like my scrotum, is not a pretty thing.

When I was getting prepped for surgery, my Dr. came by to check on me.  During our brief encounter, she mentioned that after the procedure, my scrotum might be a "little swollen and bruised". I said "no problem" cause a "little swollen and bruised" is no big deal to a he-man like myself. Well, let me tell you that if what has happened to my junk over the past week is a "LITTLE" swelling and bruising, then my surgeon has a little boning up to do in her practice of scaling. This is "little" like Shaq is little...like Dolly Parton's titty-bones are little...like ex-vice president Dick Cheney is a "little" creepy. THERE IS NOTHING LITTLE ABOUT THE SWELLING AND DISCOLORATION OF MY BALSAC!

I am a guy who has no illusions to the size of my junk. I'm about average and fairly happy about that. I remember one of my counselor friends at camp in NY had about the longest johnson I ever care to see in real life.  My reaction was first to clap. Then I got to thinking about how not-fun it must be to tote that joker around all the time.  It's a very inconvenient thing to walk around with. Well, now I know what having a mammoth junkbag is like. Cripes, that thing is in the way all the time. I'm sitting on it, knocking it around and hitting it with stuff, I mean it when I say (like the old joke about the plump wife) when I sit around my balls, I sit AROUND my balls!

Let's talk about color. I have what I'm calling the "Burnt Marshmallow" effect going on. That is to say that the bloating, swelling and color are akin to what your marshmallow looked like as a kid when you accidentally set that bitch on fire at campout. SOOOO not a pretty sight! At first it was more like Skittles. A rainbow in every bag, but now it has progressed (progress, really?) to being a pitch black bag o' almonds that elicited a sit-com like reaction from my wife and son upon showing them after a shower (you know the reaction: both looking at something off screen, then the simultaneous "head back, hands to mouth, wide eyed" pull back. Oh yeah, it happened.) It's not unlike walking around all day with a Hippity-Hop" between my legs.

I find it an interesting part of the human condition that we adapt quickly to almost any situation.  If you had told me a week earlier that my bollocks would be pitch black and wildly magnified, I would have been aghast and terrified (I may even have cried a "little"). But here I am with that exact situation (not the Jersey Shore Situation, though he is a bloated nutsack) and I feel that I am handling it with dignity, decorum and a sense of humor, as is my family (they are not dignified but they have a great time making fun of my danglers).

This is the song they came up with in the car:

"Who's got the biggest balls in the world?, It's da-ad
da-ad, da-ad!
Who's got the blackest balls in the world? It's da-ad

da-ad, da-ad!

The first thing you see when your walking down the street, 

is his big black balls hanging down around his feet.

Blah blah, something else"

My son actually sang it into his phone and is using it as  a ringtone.

Then without any provocation, while riding in the car from the mall, he blurts out:

"Hey dad! Know what you should do for a job? You should join the circus and charge people 50¢ to see your huge nuts! Then you can use them to press hamburgers!" He's 8!

My current favorite joke I came up with about them (about "them"; its like I'm referring to another entity rather than a part of my anatomy) is:

"My testicles are so big..." 

"How big are they?"

They are so big, that they no longer hang off of me, I hang off of them!" (Insert rimshot here)

So anyhow, if you've read this far, you are wrong and demented. I have spilled my guts about my nuts and bared my groin for all to read and I hope you have enjoyed it. If not, that's life, suck on my big black and blue balls!

The Pitch

Part of the joy of surgery is the narcotics....yee-haw narcotics! Part of the downside of narcotics is constipation. I'd like to tell you about Sunsweet Dried Prunes today. I have read several post-surgery accounts where folks take up to a week to take a well deserved  (and pressure relieving) dump. A WEEK! I forwent this horrifying situation (not the Jersey Shore Situation, but I forgo him too!) by munchin up some dried Sunsweet Prunes! It helps you get a "move" on quickly and efficiently and they are full of vitamins, minerals, and junk! Thanks to you and your fine product Sunsweet!