This is not my proudest moment

Around about two nights ago, me and my lady decided there were many, many things that needed celebrating. Abe's new job, her cousins visiting her, and my continued holding of the title "Guitar Hero God" (Ok, so not that many but when you're young and beautiful do you really need such profundity?).

There were many drinks involved, which is, in a roundabout way, where this tale of woe starts. We made our way back home, parting ways with the rest of our party and taking the metro, where we were mostly alone and taking true advantage of this. We left the subway and stumbled through the streets to our apartment where we started where we left off and eventually fell into that blissful torpor of drunken sleep.

The next day is where the problem started. Sex, Watson, and lots of it. Not entirely unheard of, right? Two young people, a sunday morning, not a care in the world, horrific hangovers, and far too many hormones than can feasibly be good for you. To make a potentially long story short: Sex can be bad for your health and I will endeavour to explain how, so that those reading may be warned, or at the very least get off on the schadenfreude of it all.

Theoretically, if the woman is on top and she is, um, slightly aggressive then there is generally a lot of movement, and almost certainly a lot of momentum. This is ordinarily fine, as the penis is usually somewhere safe where it can be protected from the harsh reality of what is actually happening and just strap itself in for the ride. You ocassionally get curious penises, however, that decide it's in their best interest to pop their head out to see what's going on. These are the ones you must watch out for, and if you have one be sure to chastise it before such a malady befalls you. Needless to say I didn't take such precautions and paid the ultimate price. My penis popped out to say "Hello!" where it was greeted quite harshly by my lovers pelvis who wasn't  quite as friendly as it would initially seem. I've been told that there's a popping sound that is supposedly heard, but I can't recollect if this is true as the moment was very much upon us. What I do remember is a very sudden pain the likes of which I have never experienced and flaccidity on a scale that I had never encountered before.

She was blissfully ignorant of my predicament and must have decided that in my suddenly stunned state I was ready to go again. She took matters into her own hand and attempted to reawaken the beast. It failed and very nearly brought tears to my eyes. I made the suggestion that maybe she should take a shower and freshen herself up a little, as I needed to check on something. She hesitantly accepted and I did what any red-blooded male would probably do when faced with a problem: Consult the internet!

My first google search of "pain in penis" revealed a lot of results, most of which while fascinating in their own right wasn't really what I was looking for. I finally stumbled across the culprit, I believed, and my stomach turned (type "Broken Penis" into the image search of your choice for pictures that will make you cringe).

Wikipedia will gladly tell you that:

"A penile fracture is an injury caused by the rupture of the tunica albuginea, which envelopes the corpus cavernosum penis. It is an uncommon injury, most often caused by a blunt trauma to an erect penis."

Which is a very good if slightly sterile summary of the injury. A penile fracture is actually a very painful injury that causes fibrous tissue to hemorrhage internally thanks to the breaking of a very thin wall designed to prevent such occurances.

Neither explanation was really much comfort to me as I took the most awkward taxi ride in my life, with a very unnaturally concerned taxi driver who kept making a point to ask if I was Ok ("He's fine. His water broke 5 minutes ago"). Thankfully ER was very much empty and I was able to be seen to quite quickly. I was almost certainly an oddity, to the point where they were slightly incredulous of my tale and needed many "second opinions" (which I've found is probably code for "Come and look at this guy who's hung like Clifford the Big Red Dog"). I finally got to see a Urologist who took the time to explain to me what had actually happened in great detail. A lot of this flew over my head but my girlfriend, who is a med student, took the time to explain it in terms that would probably be easier to understand:

"So imagine you have a sausage with two casings, and you bend it just enough that the internal casing breaks but the outer one stays intact. This releases a lot of grease that doesn't have much options as to where it can go."

Did I happen to mention she found this very amusing?

I was also told that I was very wise, lucky and fortunate to come when I did as a large amount of cases can go unreported and this can lead to an incredibly high complication rate. I would have to undergo surgery as soon as possible. They took my medical history and all relevant information and after going through the technicalities they put me under and did the surgery.

I awoke several hours later with an incredible amount of throbbing pain in my groin. My girlfriend was there to lovingly tell me that it was Ok, they didn't remove anything. The doctor reappeared sometime later and told me that the operation was a success. They removed the clotting, repaired the damage that was done and after briefing me on the proper precautions I should be fit to leave whenever I feel up to the task.

The first was no sexual activity for at least a month, and it was at a physicians discretion when I would be allowed to resume. This means regular checkups that the healing process is going smoothly and that there's no post-surgery complications. I could already see the problem here. I'm reasonably certain I could refrain from such activity. I'm also reasonably certain that foul temptress of mine would be doing everything with her rather limited options to make this a true test of endurance. The briefest hint of a smirk gave away her intentions.

Second was an issue of hygiene. When washing (an act that in and of itself will be a long time coming. I look like the mummy from the waist down), I should be incredibly careful when washing my genitals, as not only will it be very sore but there is also risk of further injury.

I could agree that yes, this wasn't what I wanted, and took note.

The third was regards to that wonderful pastime, urination. I was given one of those things which I can only really describe as a piss bottle (when I spent quite some time in hospital as a child these were made of some sort of cardboard. I got the much more chic, infinitely more sexy plastic model.) Things are still very much messed up down there. There's swelling in pretty much every part of my being and this will obviously make urination difficult. I can use this to urinate in then empty it into the toilet to make things far easier for myself as I'm liable to have very little flow control, or at least less than normal

The last was regarding pain management. I was given quite heavy duty painkillers and told to take them on a regular basis. The swelling will go down eventually but the discomfort would almost certainly last longer.

Yes, it probably would.

So I discharged with much soreness (that is, left the hospital), and made a slightly less frantic but no less uncomfortable taxi journey back home. Every jostle resulted in pain, every sharp turn the promise of agony.

Arriving back at the apartment I could finally see the inherant disadvantages of living on the second floor with absolutely no elevator. Making what I feel is a herculean effort to climb the stairs I finally managed it and attempted to get to sleep. This was an utter failure. Absolutely every single position resulted in at least 2 areas being incredibly painful and even with a pillow propping my legs open it was not to be. So this has left me, for the past several hours, complaining, writing this, and thinking of plausible ways to explain my absence from work.

I'm open to suggestions.