Well, it’s all but over. It’s time to shed the mystery. I’ll make this quick.

Just about a week after my birthday, I  noticed something odd “down there.” I went to the doc right away, and it was a good thing I did. I was referred to a surgeon and last Monday, he removed my left testicle. It wasn’t all that bad. I was surprised how little pain or even discomfort I had. This was done with a general anesthetic as an outpatient. I left the house by 9 and was back in my chair by 4. These pictures show before and after and give a demonstration of what happens when you put a middle-aged white man on an ever-increasing amount of synthetic opiates.  Yowzah!

Yes, I really did mark my leg with an arrow. I knew two people who went through University Hospital back in the day that came out with the wrong leg amputated.  I was taking no chances.

I went back to the surgeon today. All the tests so far indicate that it was a Seminoma, a cancer of the germ cells, and that there was all localized. He’s putting me on a regular series of blood tests– every six months or so. If the levels ever jump, they’ll know it came back.

A Seminoma also means that I still had the testicles of a 25-year-old. The prognosis for a guy my age is usually something far worse, a lymphoma. I must have caught it at the earliest possible moment. Now if I could only get a hold of Moose and Remnar. I need help getting the rest of that 25-year-old out of my trunk. He’s starting to stink.

But seriously folks.

I have decided to name my departed left nut Bo, after Rooster Cogburn’s horse in True Grit. Like that Bo, mine gave me no reason to cuss over 63 years. However, like all dead horses, I’m happy to be rid of him.

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