Have you ever gone through a day thinking about doing something, and all through that day you have been pulled and pushed too and fro trying to make up your mind one way or the other, then you finally make up your mind.

And it’s the wrong decision.

Well, this has been one of those days.  Something happened to me this morning and for half of the day at least I wondered about putting it down in writing for Blogster.  Considering that when it happened one of the first things my wife did was to telephone our neighbours and a friend who lives some distance from us, and I heard them laughing even though there were brick walls between us, I still thought it was a good idea to write about it.  It might help me. I thought.

What happened was not at all nice, in fact it was very painful and could have ended up with me in hospital, but English people being the sort they are, and my friends being the really really sick sorts they are, it was probably inevitable that they would crack up in the end.  Well, not so much in the end, more like after they had made the obligatory sympathetic noises of ‘Ooo! Bet that hurt’ and ‘Oh dear.  Don’t like the sound of that’ and ‘Oh bloody hell.  Is he alright?’

Then, all thoughts of sympathy, caring, concern went flying through the window so quickly you would think there was no glass in the frames.  Then the laughter and comments started, and they have not stopped since.  So how did all this kick off in the first place?  Well, in the first place I have been suffering from Sciatica for a few weeks, and recently have developed a cold and a cough as well.  For those of you not blessed with the Sciatica condition a word of explanation.

The Sciatic nerve runs down your back to your lower lumbar region where it bifurcates (splits in two you ignoramuses) and then continues down each leg.  When affected this causes pain to shoot down your backside (both cheeks) and on to the rear of your thighs and then onto your calves.  The pain is similar in many respects to that experienced when you stick your finger into the live socket of an electrical plug on the skirting board.  It bloody hurts!

Some mornings the pain has been slight, other mornings it has been bad.  Every morning it can be brought on by a bout of coughing, so mornings are a bit of a delicate time for me recently as I try not to cough too hard so as to minimise the electric shock treatment in my backside and legs.  Some days it works, others it doesn’t.  Today it didn’t.

I was in the bedroom stark naked as nature brought me into this world and had my clothes laid out on the bed.  I reached for a pair of underpants and started to put them on.  I bent down and put one leg through one hole and then the other leg into the other hole – you still with me?  Then I coughed, hard, and shot upright with the surprise.  A 600 volt electric shock passed through each cheek of my backside and down each thigh and then calf.  I shouted in pain and surprise and stood upright very quickly, too quickly as it turns out.

As I had my feet in the underpants leg holes and had hold of the top of the garment with my hands, then quite naturally my hands lifted the garment quickly over my legs and into the correct position for wearing them.  Around my waist.  But they went a bit too far up, and the left leg hole caught against and tweaked part of my anatomy which was hanging down on that side of my body.  Do you get the picture, or would you like me to spell it out for you?  The underpant leg tweaked and twisted my left testicle.  Got it? 

Now for the men reading this you will appreciate what happens next.  You stand absolutely motionless wondering if you have got away with tweaking one or other of them.  This can take some time if you have the murmurings of pain or discomfort coming from one or other side of your scrotum.  I stood there for two minutes, hardly daring to breath too deeply in case I had smacked them.  Nothing happened, so I breathed a sigh of relief and continued to dress myself.

It was not until I started to walk downstairs that I felt the onset of pain in my nether regions which indicated that I had not got away with anything. The pain started to rise until it was too painful to move, but I struggled to the sofa and sat down.  Big mistake.  Allowing anything at all, including a feather duster, though why I should think of a feather duster at that point I do not know, would simply cause a pain like the horn of a Brahmin bull piercing my testicles.  After sitting for a few minutes I dragged myself up the stairs and very very gently lay my throbbing body down on the bed and closed my eyes in an effort to try and get the pain to go away.  It didn’t.

After a few minutes I heard the bedroom door push open very gently and moved my head and right eye in the direction of the door.  I caught sight of Lucy’s head coming round the door.  “Go and get Polly” I said to her. She lay down on the floor just where my feet would hit the floor if I was foolish enough to try and swing my legs over the side of the bed.  I fell back onto the bed in a state of extreme pain.  There were bits of me which had not experienced pain like that since the time my first wife accidentally kneed me in that region shortly after we were first married and when sex was still something to be carried out at any time of day or night and in any room you happened to be at the time the urge gripped you, which was pretty much anywhere and anytime.   I digress.

So, five minutes later my dear sympathetic wife came to look for me and immediately insisted that she should telephone for the doctor after I had explained what had happened, and that this had not been the first time.  I agreed and after a few minutes came back into the bedroom to tell me the doctor would make a house call after morning surgery.  I lay back on my bed of pain, then made my way downstairs to resume the same position on the sofa. 

She went next door to make alternative arrangements with the neighbours for something she had lined up for later that day, then telephoned our friends to do the same thing with them.  Obviously they had to be informed of the reason, which is normal.

One hour later, the pain disappeared.  Completely, totally, and I hope for ever.  As I said, I have had this sort of thing before.  It is where the cord holding the testicle to terra firma becomes twisted, and generates pain.  This is what had happened, and the disappearance of the pain was an indication that the cord had straightened itself out.  The doctors visit was cancelled and neighbours and friends told of the outcome. 

Shall I say that both families are now well and truly scrubbed from my Christmas card list as a result of the comments they came out with over the telephone.

And, as I said at the head of this piece, I don’t know if I am doing the right thing in writing about it.  Time will tell.

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