It was a real fear. The examination would involve the ultrasound technician rubbing a gel over my genitals and then stroking the balls with a humming ultrasound transducer -- a vibrator, basically. This would go on for 20 minutes. Surely, it would feel sexual, and my body would respond. What if the technician was a woman? What if it was a man? But of course, there was another, far more serious fear as well: What if they laughed at my pubic hair? Should I shave before the appointment? Or, gosh, maybe they'd then notice I'd gone out of my way to make myself pretty, and that would make things even more awkward!
In the end, however, there was nothing to worry about. I mean, yeah, they found cancer, but no surprise boners!
Look, you gotta take your wins when you get them.
So I went to a urologist, who said, "We're going to schedule a surgery to remove your testicle." Normally, when you have some kind of disease, I guess a doctor sits you down and then talks about "options." Here, my options were "remove testicle on Wednesday" or "remove testicle on Thursday."