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The following is the _Unusual_Case_ case column from the July 1991
issue of the trade magazine _Medical_Aspects_of_Human_Sexuality_, by
William A. Morton, Jr.
Scrotum Self-Repair
One morning I was called to the emergency room by the head ER nurse.
She directed me to a patient who had refused to describe his problem
other than to say that he "needed a doctor who took care of men's
troubles." The patient, about 40, was pale, febrile, and obviously
uncomfortable, and had little to say as he gingerly opened his
trousers to expose a bit of angry red and black-and-blue scrotal skin.
After I asked the nurse to leave us, the patient permitted me to
remove his trousers, shorts, and two or three yards of foul-smelling
stained gauze wrapped about his scrotum, which was swollen to twice
the size of a grapefruit and extremely tender. A jagged zig-zag
laceration, oozing pus and blood, extended down the left scrotum.
Amid the matted hair, edematous skin, and various exudates, I saw some
half-buried dark linear objects and asked the patient what they were.
Several days earlier, he replied, he had injured himself in the
machine shop where he worked, and had closed the laceration himself
with a heavy-duty stapling gun. The dark objects were one-inch
staples of the type used in putting up wallboard.
We x-rayed the patient's scrotum to locate the staples; admitted him
to the hospital; and gave him tetanus antitoxin, broad-spectrum
antibacterial therapy, and hexachlorophene sitz baths prior to surgery
the next morning. The procedure consisted of exploration and
debridement of the left side of the scrotal pouch. Eight rusty
staples were retrieved, and the skin edges were trimmed and freshened.
The left testis had been avulsed and was missing. The stump of the
spermatic cord was recovered at the inguinal canal, debrided, and the
vessels ligated properly, though not much of a hematoma was present.
Through-and-through Penrose drains were sutured loosely in site, and
the skin was loosely closed.
Convalescence was uneventful, and before his release from the hospital
less than a week later, the patient confided the rest of his story to
me. An unmarried loner, he usually didn't leave the machine shop at
lunchtime with his coworkers. Finding himself alone, he had begun the
regular practice of masturbating by holding his penis against the
canvas drive-belt of a large floor-based piece of machinery. One day,
as he approached orgasm, he lost his concentration and leaned too
close to the belt. When his scrotum became caught between the pulley-
wheel and the drive-belt, he was thrown into the air and landed a few
feet away. Unaware that he had lost his left testis, and perhaps too
stunned to feel much pain, he stapled the wound closed and resumed
work. I can only assume he abandoned this method of self-
gratification.
[William A. Morton is a retired urologist residing in West Chester,
Pennsylvania.]
~Date: 6 May 90 15:52:08 GMT
~References: <9953@stiatl.UUCP>
~Reply-To: derrick@ritcsh.UUCP (Derrick Williams)
Organization: Computer Science House @ RIT, Rochester, NY
~Lines: 105
In article <3341@ritcsh.cs.rit.edu> andre@ritcsh.cs.rit.edu (Andre Romadinov) writes:
>His name was "Athos". The dog was lying on the carpet relaxing when the
>master shouted "Athos!". Athos got up and "ran" up the stairs. Unfortunatelly
>he fell down the stairs because he was running a dog's run up the stairs and
>you simply can't do that. When he fell he sprained his right hind leg and
>squealed. The master kept calling and the dog got up and "limped" up the
>stairs this time thankfully not falling. When he got to his master his eyes
>were saying "What can I do for you master?". How many "men" do you know
>who can act so unselfishly? I rest my case.
On a related note I once was at a friend's house and he had a new litter of
gerbils that had been born a few weeks ago. We took them out of the cage and
played with them on the dining room table. They were almost fully grown, about
the size of a man's palm. My friend hadn't named the gerbils yet, because there
were so many of them. It soon became apparent that these gerbils would start
another new litter if my friend didn't get rid of them. So we were deciding what
to do with this problem when he broke out a case of beer. We drank and played
with the gerbils all through the evening. The little gerbils were making turds
all over the table and little puddles of piddle leaked here and there. We would
pick them up by their tails and put them on our shoulders, all the while
knocking back some brew. We tried to give the little critters some of it but
only one deigned to take a little sip of it. I guess at that time we drank most
of the case of beer and we were pretty wild. We started playing toss with the
little furry creatures and I tried juggling them. Well, in our drunken state we weren't doing too well so we took them to the kitchen to see what fun things
there were to do with them. Well, this house was a bit old fashioned, and one
of the implements was a red meat grinder, you know, one of those things you
put meat in a funnel and turn the handle and it comes out in itty bitty peices?
Yeah, well we were just pretending to be putting one of the gerbils in, you
know, and we were laughing like maniacs like it was the funniest things in the
world. My friend was shaking, and I think he lost his grip. At any rate, we
couldn't find the gerbil. It must have fallen somewhere. So we stood around trying to look through the haze to try to figure out where it went. We heard little
sqeaking noises in the funnel of the meat grinder, and in a fit of hilarity, we spun the handle a few times.
Man, you never heard such a noise. The little bastard had fallen in, and when my friend turned the thing, the gerbil let out an ear peircing squeak, and you
could hear little scratching sounds in it. blood was starting to dribble out
of the exhaust thingy, which we thought was absoulutely thigh slapping. So
we would turn the handle a little, making a <GRIND> sound,and the the little guy
would go <SQUEAK>, so we were going <GRIND><SQUEAK><GRIND><SQUEAK><GRIND>
<SQUEAK> and man, was it a riot! Pretty soon it stopped making noise and this
horrendus mess was dribbling all over the sink so we gave it up and tried to
find the rest of the furry rats.
My friend told me to gather up the rest of the critters and he would be right
back. Well, in my stupor, I could hardly stand still, so picking up the animals
who had run loose all over the kitchen was pretty hard. I picked them up and
put them back on the kitchen sink. I was a bit clumsy and I happened to step
on one, making a loud snap. The poor guy was was lying squashed, his arms
twitching around like he was trying to get up or something. There was blood
running out of his ears. Man, was it a sight! I picked it up by its tail and
tossed it playfully at my friend who ran in with an kitchen implement. He
showed me the Qusinart he had gotten from the basement, and boy, did we have
a fit! We absolutely shrieked with laugher as I gathered up the furrballs that
were running around in the sink. We put them in the yellow chamber in the
modern cusine wonder. Well, it wasn't easy, what with them climbing out. We
got them all sealed in, with the top we had to try a few times to make it
snap in place. Boy, you shoulda seen those guys in that tight space! They were
jumping all over each other and looking through that plastic, sniffing at it and
putting their paws up against it when we tapped on it. Their beady black eyes
looking at us inqusitively and their noses twitching. Well, we couldn't hold
off the temptation anymore; our sides were splitting. So as I laughed like a
maniac, my friend's hand thumped firmly on the "on" button. Oh, wow! Those
Gerbils leaped like crazy, like when you shake a box of marbles. The blade
wasn't doing too well as those mangled gerbils got caught on the blade and were
frantically waving their paws as the machine grinded. This one guy had his
lower adbodmen ripped off and you could see the wet insides, and he was crawling
around in his front legs. There was another with half his face sliced off and
he was rubbing it with his paws like he was wondering what was going on.
At any rate, my friend tried to get the blade unstuck by pushing the "Pulse"
button a couple times, and the Qusinart was going "WHOOM!" "WHOOM!" "WHOOM!"
, which just barely masked out the racket the critters were making.
Finally, the darn creatures stopped moving around, and then the blade went
"clakety clackety clackety" as it grinded up the little gerbil bones. We
couldn't see anything in it after that, as there was this reddish brown paste
smeared all over the sides with bits and peices we were trying to figure out
which belonged to which gerbil. We were really going at it, but then the effects
of the beer was finally taking its toll, so we decided to call it a night. I
crashed in his living room couch nd chuckled myself to sleep, as he fumbled
upstairs.
So the moral of this story is that you should only puree' little animals in
a meat grinder or a Quisinart. How many "man" sized animals do you know that
can be placed in such a small place? Have you tried this with ferrets? How
do you know what is true? Well, facts are facts, buddy, and you shouldn't
do this with turtles or other animals that are hard to grind up. God didn't
make Man small enough, which lead to the fact that we have to depend on
tiny creatures for entertainment.
Wocka wocka, and until next time,
Derrick
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|_--.__/ / / _/_| "We Never Sleep"
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|____/_/__COLA___| Derrick Williams, Chief Acolyte
|___//___________|
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|The Switch Is On| Rochester Institute of Technology
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Of course, somebody always feels a need to respond to such things...
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>sheeesh.. talk about sick minds, if I'd ever walk in sombody doing something
>like that, I'd surely grab the first heavy thing in sight and bash his knees
>and elbows until *they* knew what it is like to be savagely mangled.
Don't you think that it is pretty sexist to only think that males can
enjoy a good rodent?