Rantings of the Herald

For my first post I wanted to republish one of the posts that motivated me to blog again…bear in mind that it was written almost three years ago…

People generally like to keep their insides private.

This syndrome ranges from the tame internal exposures (such as blood drawing) to the extreme cases (surgery). People are very squeamish when what is on the inside of their bodies chooses through circumstances to travel outside of, or be visible from, the outside of their bodies.

To make a massive generalization, women on the whole seem to be less tolerant of these things than men. This is probably due to early childhood conditioning. Boys watched Arnold bleeding from a dozen places in his movies - didn’t slow him down a bit (”It’s just a flesh wound”). Girls get the slightest scratch and it is cleaned, bandaged, kissed (there’s a sanitary practice) - and done - out of sight, out of mind. Boys, by nature of their “approved” pastimes (skateboarding, football and other assorted mayhem) get used to seeing their own blood. Most get to the point where they won’t even clean a good knee-skinning.

I was no different. Early on I decided that it was a sign of weakness to turn your head away when you got a shot. I would grit my teeth and stare maniacally at my arm as the needle went in.

The behavior we cement in place as children is damn hard to shed as an adult. I remained fascinated about my innards. If any of my friends get a decent wound, I want to see it. My acquaintances who have had the misfortune of kidney stones eventually collect the stone (strainer - ugh) and hand it over to the doctor for testing/disposal/voodoo without a second thought. They are invariably horrified when I ask them why they didn’t keep it. “You grew it, went through all that pain, and when you finally got it - you gave it away??!!!!” I usually get the look that people reserve for dealing with the seriously disturbed.

But really, isn’t anyone curious about the inside of their body? Women spend hours staring at their face in the mirror. All of us spend at least a small amount of time looking at our exterior each day as we perform our ablutions. I’ve spent a damn long time nourishing, exercising, massaging my insides and I want a peek.

(The really squeamish should stop reading here)

I had to have some surgery on my testicles 2-1/2 years ago (that’s right, you read it correctly). Local anesthesia, awake for the entire procedure. At one point my doctor (he was a peculiar one) asked if I wanted to see and handed me a mirror. “Hell yeah!” I said as I commenced my VST (Visual Surveillance of my Testicles). I was curious for all the reasons stated above, plus, I (like most other people) had taken especially gentle care of that particular area of my body. Based on their main function (and that of their close neighbor) we had become good friends in fact.

I won’t try to describe the spectacle. But I have seen a part of myself that 99% of all males will never see. I find it curious that my doctor tells me that most people will never look. Why not?

I had a fight with my wife the other day. As is my habit, I went out to indulge in one of my hobbies, woodworking (that’s an entire post in itself). Power tools require respect. It is not a good idea to use a table saw while fuming about something your spouse has said. As I was ripping a particularly small piece on the tablesaw, my wife yelled something especially irksome from the back door. Lose concentration for one second….

Now I know what my knucklebone looks like, how it feels against the tip of my tongue, and what more than a half a cup of blood tastes like.

I wonder what internal revelations await me in the future?