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When I was thirteen, I did something really stupid which I have regretted for the past ten years. I'll probably have another 50-60 years to regret it further. I was poking around in the junk box on my dad's work bench in the cellar one morning when I chanced upon a washer that I thought would make a real cool cock ring. The opening was 5/8" in diameter and the outside diameter of the washer was 2 5/8". My dick was about 4" long and looked as if it could just be worked through that washer. I fetched some Vaseline from the bathroom and greased up my dick and worked it through the opening in the washer. It was a snug fit, but not too difficult. As soon as it was seated against my bush, I got the biggest hardest boner I'd ever had. I started fooling with it and, even though it was already very hard, it got even bigger and harder and began to hurt. I figured that I'd better get the washer off my dick before it damaged it. The only problem with that was that I couldn't. Despite the Vaseline, I couldn't budge the washer at all. The shaft bulged out just outside the hole in the washer. I realized that I'd have to make my hardon go down before I could slip the washer off. I tried not to think about sex, which was on my mind all the time, and tried to busy my mind with something else. Factoring large numbers to see if they're primes is a good way to occupy your mind. It's hard to concentrate when your dick hurts, though. I decided to try the opposite way and relax my dick by jerking off. That was difficult, too because of the pain. Pumping my swollen shaft made it hurt worse. I thought of Suzie Falvey with her grapefruit-sized boobs and whaled away frantically at my throbbing whang. I finally came, but my piss-tube was pinched so tightly that I could hardly get any jism out. I thought my dick was going to explode and it didn't relax at all. I thought of dialing 911, but I was too embarrassed to tell the dispatcher what I'd done. Oh God, if only I had ! Instead, I tried other ways of relaxing my dick. I went up to the kitchen and filled a Zip-Loc bag with ice cubes and wrapped it around my swollen aching dick. That felt better, but it didn't go down. My dick had turned dark purple and the veins stood out on it like worms. I had put the washer on my dick at 10:00 AM. Both Mom and Dad worked and didn't get home until evening, Dad around 5:15 and Mom around 5:40. I hoped I could shrink my dick with cold before they got home. Usually cold water would make my little dingus shrivel right up, but ice didn't help much this time, at least not enough so that I could move that washer. I tried clamping the bottom of the washer in the vise on the workbench and hacksawing it. The washer proved to be made of very hard steel. After 20 minutes of sawing, I'd gotten less than ¼" into it. My arms were already tired and I figured that, at that rate, it would take me over two hours to make two cuts on opposite sides of the washer so that I could break it . Until the icemaker in the fridge ran out, I kept packing ice around my dick, both to keep it from getting inflamed and in hope of making it shrink Hours went by. Finally Dad came home and I shamefacedly showed him what I'd done. He wrote Mom a quick Post-It note and stuck it on the fridge and then rushed me to the ER at the hospital. From then on, it was "Hurry up and wait." If it isn't likely to be fatal immediately, it takes forever to see a doctor. A nurse took down the particulars of my case, especially the health insurance information, and told us to take a seat. Mom joined us and we waited.......and waited.........and waited.........and waited. Two hours later, a young Indian doctor named V. Ramanujan Srinavasan saw me. His first comment was "Oh, my goodness, this should have been looked at hours ago." Dad remarked rather sharply, "We've been sitting here for over two hours waiting for someone to see him. Dr. Srinavasan was decent enough to say that he was sorry and asked how long the washer had been on my penis. I told him "Over nine hours, since 10:00 AM." "Oh, my goodness, that is very bad ." exclaimed Dr. Srinavasan. "Surgery will be required to drain the blood from the corpora cavernosa so that the washer can be removed. There has probably been clotting and there is danger of gangrene. I will have the boy transferred to a room and summon a surgeon to see him." Some 25 minutes later, I was finally brought to a room in the ER and told to undress and lie on the bed. Assorted monitors were attached to me and I was told that Dr. Berenstein was busy with another patient but would see me as soon as he was free. And so, we waited.....and waited.....and waited....47 minutes later, the surgeon, Dr. Hyman Berenstein, came in and examined my dick and said "This looks very bad. It should have been treated hours ago." Dad almost snarled at him "We've been here for 3½ hours !" "WELL, that's not MY fault." replied Dr. Berenstein defensively. "According to Dr. Srinavasan's notes, the's had this thing on his penis since 10:00 AM. Why didn't he call 911 ?" "He was too embarrassed" said Dad. "That embarrassment could cost him his penis." snapped Dr. Berenstein . "I'm going to have to open the vein and attempt to drain the corpora cavernosa. If the circulation is blocked by blood clots , as I suspect, I shall have to make incisions into the corpora cavernosa to remove the blood clots. There should be an operating room available in about 15 minutes." In fact, it was 55 minutes before I was finally transferred to an operating room. An anęsthesiologist injected lidocaine into my penis and Dr. Berenstein finally went to work. He exposed the vein close to the washer and dark venous blood oozed slowly out of it .It was necessary to lay open the corpora cavernosa of my penis like filetting a fish and excise the blood clots one by one. This procedure restored normal circulation but totally destroyed the internal structure of the corpora cavernosa of my penis. Finally that damned washer was removed ! From surgery, I was admitted to the hospital and transferred to a semi-private room. I was told that the urologist, Dr. Shafatullah Patel would speak to me in the morning. I had a very good idea of what he would tell me. Dr. Patel showed up about two hours after breakfast. Mom and Dad were there. He told us that the erectile columns of the penis, the corpora cavernosa, had been destroyed and, therefore, I could never have an erection agan. Dad asked him about implants and Dr. Patel told us that implants could not be inserted until adulthood. They are very expensive, and the operation is attended with considerable risk of losing the penis. "Donald, does your penis hurt ?" " YES SIR, it sure does !" Dr. Patel's comment, "That is good." rather surprised me. "Why ?" I asked. "Because it proves that the sensory nerves of the penis are undamaged. Masturbation, at least, will still be possible once the organ has healed. It is far better to have a flaccid penis that can be used for masturbation than to have no penis at all." I had to admit that that made sense. Now, ten years later, my dick, though withered and shriveled looking is almost 5" long and very sensitive. It is certainly usable for masturbation as Dr. Patel predicted. But, many guys my age are getting married and having kids. I don't even date. I have a high sperm count, but it'll never be used. One miserable fact stands between me and happiness. I can't fuck. |