At this point, I had enough. I didn't want to try any more creams or lotions, and I didn't even want Botox anymore. I wanted a surgeon to knife around in my bits and fix this bullshit. Some surgeries remove the sweat glands, but I had a sympathectomy, which meant my nerves which induced sweating were cut. Even before my surgery, I had to prove to my insurance company that it would help my quality of life. My bosses sent a letter explaining how my excessive sweating could be a hindrance. I went around to people I knew and asked them to share how they thought sweating made my life worse. It was debasing, but I wanted this, so I sucked it up and sent in letters until my insurance company finally said yes.
The Treatments Aren't Cures
So I had the surgery. And it worked! My hands are no longer perpetual salt water machines. My head and feet are also sweat-free. I can grip cups and shake hands and go barefoot all I please. But I still have hyperhidrosis. They don't know how to fix that. And they can't shut off all my sweat glands, because the medical term for that is "murder" (you need to sweat to avoid overheating and heatstroke). So that means that post-surgery, my other sweat glands have doubled down on productivity. Namely, the apocrine glands -- aka my torso and my junk.
So basically all the worst areas for a sunburn.
On a hot day, I really don't look forward to taking off my pants. Pants seal in the smell, and taking them off after a day of marinating is ... not pleasant. On hot days, even my clothing can't hold in the rolling waves of ball sweat smell. I now take three showers a day to ensure I'm fit to be in human company. It's such a problem that it's stopped me from running. The side effects of this surgery are bad enough that nearly a quarter of people who went through my operation wish that they never did it.
Personally, I prefer sweating inwardly to outwardly, even though it means living with 1,000 percent more ball sweat than any man should have. My life has greatly improved overall. You don't know how amazing it is to write something without fear of soaking the paper. Picking up a dumbbell without being afraid of dropping it still feels weird. Never having to wear a sweatband again in my life brings me joy in ways people who wear them for style will never understand. If the only people who suffer are those in close proximity when I remove my pants, that's a tradeoff we'll have to live with.
Evan V. Symon is an interviewer, writer and interview finder guy here at Cracked. Have an awesome job/experience you'd like to share? E-mail us at email@example.com and fame and/or fortune will soon be yours!
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