Hearing that your balls are abnormal isn't the best thing to hear.
I mean, everybody at some point looks at their junk and thinks to themselves
"Is this it? Is this what other people have"
Sometimes your mates might take the piss out of you, but to have a medical professional tell you you're abnormal is something else.
Not only that, but he has a machine to help him prove just how abnormal you are. It. Has. Error. Bars.
I've read these magazines saying you should "Be happy with the way you are." and "Ignore the comments other people make" and "Just be happy with yourself".
I was tempted to burst out into song..."This is me" from The Greatest Showman or something.
I needed validation. I needed other opinions on my meat and 2 veg. Unfortunately for me the only people at the hospital were either pregnant women, who wouldn't want to know,
post-natal women, who really didn't want to know, a nurse, who would be bias and my wife who, after many years of speculation, now had proof.
Short of dashing through Romsey with my bits out there was nothing to be done. So I did the only thing I could do.
Stood there cupping my balls in my hand, looking down at them like the last available veg in Morrisons on a Sunday Evening.
The Doctor asked me if I had any questions.
Well, yes.
How bad is it?
Will I still be able to have sex (or whatever)?
Would there be more people in later on that I can get a second opinion about my nads from?
I didn't ask any of those. I went home instead, fighting the urge to google image search "normal testicles" or if I could buy my own UltraSound, with or without error bars, from Gumtree...
Thanks for reading
Thanks for reading
