The day went on with regular two hour interruptions of one sort or another. The hospital is no place to rest. I assure you. I finally got the nerve to pull up my hospital gown and look down at myself. I did not recognize anything from my tits down. Who in gay hell is that? And what bitch gave my genitals that Adolph Hitler hair cut? Any ways, I was groggy but awake when I heard the rustling of many pairs of feet. Bruce had slipped out by this time. I swear I could smell them before I focused on the intrusion. It was Daryl, Daryl, and his other brother Daryl coming to check on Bubba in the next bed. They had to have been born in the front yard under a white trash Pontiac Trans Am up on blocks. I could over hear them trying to wake Bubba, their fourth brother but to no avail. I then heard one of them say, “Hell, Bubba is not going to wake up. lets go get a drink and check back later” OH Great!! Bruce has pissed off Ma Barker and now the Grease Brothers are going to suffocate me in the middle of the night!! I called Bruce and told him to get over here and get all the gay flower arrangements out of this room, so as not to upset this band of rednecks. Hoping to lay there and pretend to sleep without being noticed.
Bruce came back soon, and was polite to Ma Barker who had arrived by this time. He was kind enough to show them the little kitchenette area where they could find light snacks and half can sodas, compliments of the hospital. We quietly giggled through the percocet high about my predicament and Bruce left for the evening with flowers in tow. Little did I know what lay ahead for the rest of the night.
The whole redneck clan showed up, kids and all. I was gayly afraid to complain about so many people being in the room at one time. I just tried to hold the curtain between us and take more drugs. At one point there were at least six adults and two children. They were running back and forth to that kitchenette area procuring party snacks for the whole gang. That bitch nurse Linda never showed up either. The hateful bitch! I’m sure she would have relished my demise by my neighboring roomies diesel mechanic family. The last thing I overheard before drugging myself to sleep was by one of the Daryl’s who said “ I guess I better go pick up the kids” YOU MEAN THERE ARE MORE?? I could only imagine the orphanage from David Copperfields novel, and a room full of disgusting dripping little yard children.
Each morning, the good doctor checked in on me just before daylight. He was pleasant and appreciated. It was the third morning, I was told I could go home. Up and packed still connected to that I.V. pole. That was the longest two hours of my life it seemed. I finally hit the nurse call button, and politely ask if I could go home now? Some things work easier than others. Or they were ready to get rid of me. In ten minutes two older ex-car hop type ladies were wheeling me to the main entrance. And there was Bruce to carry me home to nest. Gary had the house and sick bed arranged like a royal apartment. I had little to do but lay there connected to that catheter bag and eat hydrocodene, and percocet for the next two weeks. I think if I had to live the rest of my life with that catheter, I would surely find a way to discontinue life. What a miserable time. We have a new rule at our house that I am not allowed to Day Trade Stocks under the direct influence of pain altering drugs. I think I had a good time though??
Lots of visitors at home during that two week span. The day of catheter removal arrived. To get the damn thing out a day early we had to drive to the South office very near North Dallas. Please? anything, just get it out of me. At this point it seemed I could order chops at Petty’s food store completely nude. I was just over being awkward about my body, and besides there were probably only two people in the county that had not seen my naked ass in bright light. This polite little nurse came in and placed me in the stirrups for removal. I mentally prepared for relief, but something happened!! She got it caught half way in, or half way out. I was near tears when she ran out of the cubicle to retrieve the good doctor. In professional haste he skated into the exam room and carefully twisted first one way, then one last yank. I was free. I was not pissing on myself. A very good sign. Just out of precaution I climbed in the diaper. Only a little stress incontinence remained, but for the most part it looked like I would not have to learn to piss again. Another blessing.
You have not lived until you have bought Depends and feminine napkins at age forty-seven as a gay man for your self!! Do I buy tampons? Or winged pads that in no way will adhere to men’s boxer briefs. I dare not cough or laugh without clenching for fear of erratic no feeling leakage. One of my early outings when strength began to return was to Expo Square for the car show. Bruce and I walking through checking out cars and men. I noticed the pad had slipped to my knee and was about to exit my pants leg. I struggled to retrieve it only to look around to see Bruce had left me behind about twenty paces. He was out of there!! Just another giggle for the story line.
I pay little attention while purchasing EL’ Grande’ Maxi Pads now.
The process left me thankful for Bruce. I wondered what invalid gay people do that have not shared their lives with another spirit? How helpless I was for that first three weeks. Gary coming by to change bedding when Bruce was at work. All the calls and well wishes made for pleasant recovery. This is much harder than I thought it would be. Lots of hot soak baths [BBWBB’S] we called them Big Black Woman Bubble Baths!!! Lots of soft clothes later, I’m back at work with a whole new out look on life. Me thinks that hunt and gather time is less important than simply being alive. The erection issue is yet to be approached, but my body is still in healing mode. I have no doubt that too will be resolved. At least the good doctor assures me it will. Till the world falls apart again. I will continue to re adapt to my new physical being.
Thirty days later, back in the same midtown office I await my first follow up check up. The Doctor is just extra nice. His kindness is gentlemanly and concerned. Scarring looks good but its still too early to address the erection issue. I report that I have in fact resumed climax. A different climax than I ever expected though. A sort of prepubescent shaking as intense as any teenage memory allows. They are shuddering and rewarding but dry. Okay, already, I have established that I will be able to please myself. My concern is that I may never be able to please someone else? A phantom catheter pain remains in the end of my penis along with scar
pressure and the worst case of hemorrhoids on record! There is just no way to pain medicate without that tremendous ass pain. Well into the forty-fifth day I can see my ass will get back to normal. I dare not share my new found climax yet, as it is simply a slapping limp cock affair. I have thought about hiring a rent boy to tap me on the shoulder when I quit shaking so as to know when its over.
Bruce and I have discussed our situation with laughter and jokes about his ass and my cock both being reinvented. The energy and love remains the same with physical alterations yet decided. I am regaining strength and back at work. My naps are shorter and slowly I found myself awake for most of the days. Still reading the prostate manual and way past the cure option and outcome chapters. The erection section is most interesting and following the suggestions thus far has resulted little. The pump was fun. The porno did little. I should have read the Viagra box first. When you take Viagra for real need rather than recreationally with disappointing results the luster is gone. How was I to know physical stimulation was part of the plan. Before when I took a pill for recreation sex, we went to the nearest bath house and marveled at the pleasure. Now it seems a last ditch effort. I even tried a “happy ending” massage to no avail. Perhaps the next follow up appointment will address my dilemma?
April 15th. Tax and dick day arrive. Bruce relieved me at 1:30 p.m.
I went home to bathe and see the kind doctor at 2:30. I had noticed at my first follow up appointment all the loose fitting clothes on the older men in the waiting room. I too was wearing sweat pants to allow for the swelling and scar pressure around my waist. I speculated how obvious after having gone through the surgery this was now. They too needed more room in the mid section. My sympathy for myself and all of them was self comforting. The usual urine sample and left in the examination room I was just grateful to be alive for the most part. Any erection reward would be a bonus! In comes the kind doctor and my first question was “what do we do now?”. He assured me that our goal was an unassisted erection. I’m grinning now for sure. Rather than try the Viagra that I had secured from another doctor friend he suggested we jump to the penile injection medication. How scary is that? How horny do you have to be to bury a needle in your dick?
We would soon find out. I had just read the injection pamphlet and was shocked to see that the needle had to sink completely into the penis. And now we were going to try it. I almost fled the room. He left and came back syringe in hand. I said. Doc!! I don’t think I can inject myself!! No problem, he was going to give the first shot. Standing there shorts down to my ankles he grabbed my penis bare handed, held it against my thigh swabbed and aimed. This was just too fast for me. He made me move my hand away so as not to jerk the needle away. HURT!! PAIN!! How could anyone stick a needle in their dick for a hard-on?? I almost passed out. He massaged the injection site with the swab and pulled in the most mechanical of ways. This was not sexual! Just the mechanics of securing an erection. He was very skilled and not at all bothered by his task. It is so hard for me to realize that this is this mans job. Wow! The pain as the medication saturated the inner penile muscle was devastating.
He told me to massage my penis to spread the drug and that he would return in about ten minutes. Not to worry, he would be the only one to open the door. That’s right, I’m standing in an upscale examination room and I have been told to virtually masturbate!!! Now I’m crying from the pain and laughing at the situation. I hurt so bad I did not bother to bend over and pull my pants back up. A hot poker plunged down my cock could only be worse. I grabbed the waist high window seal with one hand and shored up my groin area with the other. Massage my penis? Yes, that is what the kind hetero doctor said to do. No way, much too painful for that. A dry ache at the end of my cock and that muscle spasm thing going on in the rest. It was all I could do to remain standing. As the pain spread so did my cock. I was having my first erection in sixty days!
It was amazing. It started to swell in girth first. Oh hell, I’m going to have a lumpy hard on. Then as if by magic it lengthened. It was uniform and recognizable. It was the old me. But it hurt!! The old me did not hurt! What’s the deal. I’m still crying and laughing. This is nuts. This is absolutely insane!! Must I go through this every time I want to sex for the rest of my life? My cock is heavy and sticking straight up!! It felt like it was full of mortar cement, and I am not enjoying it. what in gay hell will I do? The door behind me opened. I turned around after hearing the door close like a boy showing off his first caught fish. “WHOA!!!” the kind doctor shouted. I know the thin walls between those exam cubicles could not have muffled his response. I had this vision of the nurses giggling out side the door knowing full well this was not the first time
a rediscovered hard dick had happened in this office. He then smiled in response to my painful smile, and ask what I thought about it? He bent down to look at it closer and moved it from one side to the other with all the ease of arranging fruit on a tray. I said “Doc, it hurts too much to even think about sex or pleasure. Is this normal?” Well its suppose to hurt the first time. We are training those muscles and veins to expand again. Its been a while and they have forgot how. I felt as though my cock was full of concrete, although erect it was painfully heavy. Celibacy was becoming a more charming option at this moment. I could feel the pain from the injection site, the pain of the medication swelling, and the already existing penile pain were making me miserable. Who in gay hell could think about fucking in this predicament?
His professionalism still astounds me. He spoke of the time sequence the drug would most likely take. Our injection was at precisely 3:20. He explained it should last thirty to ninety minutes. If in fact the erection had not subsided by 6:00 p.m. to call back immediately. Another doctor was on call for the evening, and would be informed that I had been injected, inflated, and sent home. I relieved the tension that I only seemed to feel about standing there hard dicked by saying under my breath “Damn Doc, I’ve been in a gay bath house with four hundred hard cocks running in all directions and did not feel as weird about standing here homo to hetero with you “This is just too weird!” His calm and ease remained professional.
I ask him if I would get a prescription for self injections if this were the only course of erection cure? I think I understood him to say, No, all I had to do was drop by when I got in the mood. Now wait a minute. You mean I have to plan happy hard cock time in advance? It’s only temporary, he assured me. The shots were to remind my penis vessels how to work on their own. Only temporary? I have no choice but to live with it. A limp cock is not a pressing issue for a dead man. He filled out the carbonized paper work and told me to button up, shook my hand and said lets try again in a few weeks.
Now don’t think that I am ungrateful for the erection. We know it can happen now. I am just off the chart uncomfortable right now. I was stooped over trying to hold my cock upright between my shorts and body wedged up the zipper line, as I left the exam room. I may be hard, but I’m not dumb!!
Through both reception desk I got the same stare and evil grin on the way out. I had this old retail storefront visual of exiting an erection store with a “BIG SALE” sign out front!!! It hurt to walk! I know now, the previous sympathy for all those older men in loose fitting clothes was misdirected. It was not that they were hurting from surgery pain effects, but that they had to have room in their pants to get their hard-ons home! It’s no wonder that their wives adorned with pleasant smiles, were along to drive.
I staggered to my high step up truck and rolled myself up and into the bucket seat. Gingerly I clicked the seat belt and drove out painfully grinning. I checked the clinic windows to see if they were all there glaring and laughing at yet another hard dick exit? I’m sure I would have given the queen’s palm out wave, if they had been. I dropped back by the shop to show Bruce. Yeah, there was nothing we could do with it except look and marvel, but I had to share the results. I entered the back door to his question “Well, how did it go?”. I just dropped my pants revealing this pulsating, quivering non sexual appendage. We both burst out in laughter. Damn, I love that man. There is little in my life that can lift my spirits like his closed mouth laughter.
His eyes always water as his hand moves to muffle any but he sweetest of laughs and giggles. We had come so far in twenty years. The idea of an assisted hard-on was not high on our priority list. We were however overtly amused. It seemed to continue to swell and hurt even more. I drove to the house and another BBWBB seeking some immediate physical relief. The bath did little good and Bruce found me legs elevated and in bed when he arrived home an hour later. Some more laughter and urgency for this to be over was all that remained. The discomfort of the weighted dong was more than I could deal with. He brought in an ice pack and a giggle, that seemed to relieve the pain but not the swelling. I watched the clock thinking that we would have to call the doctor real soon, as he prepared dinner. I was truly getting alarmed, when at 5:55 exactly the erection started to subside. No skateboarder ever used the word “awesome!!!” as we did on my shrinking penis. What an incredible time we live in. We were both amazed at the precise timing allowed for retraction.
The injection site pain still remained and I moved slowly for the first hour or so. And of all nights there was a health report on one of the upper channels about erections, and the lack there of. A few more laughs about what we had just survived resulting in Bruce saying “Next time? Tell the good doctor to lighten the dose. That your partner said to ask for a quickie dose. Not to be bringing home anymore ALL DAY SUCKERS.”
Thank all that is Godly and healthy that I do not have to endure this passage alone.