Thursday, July 23, 2009

Campfire Blues

As I once understood it, it's the pampiniform plexus, the veins around the testis, the prolonged congestion of which during unrequited (as it were) sexual stimulation, that is responsible for an unpleasant pain syndrome particularly prominent in adolescent males. This is a medical blog. Blogs are, by definition, personal. So, here's a post about something vaguely medical, and highly personal. Suffering from topic deficit, I've sunk to this. But it's a good story. In short, I may be the only person known to have passed out from a case of, well, you know...

It was at summer camp, a co-ed religious camp, which makes it even better. A high school freshman, by any standards, even in those innocent times, I was inexperienced. And there was a girl, a California girl, wiser than me by light years. One cool night found us together, in the woods, for quite a while. I will say no more; but you can easily infer how it didn't end.

Despite being what might be called distracted, we heard the call to the evening campfire. As we made our way back, I became aware of discomfort. Increasing discomfort. Significant, unfamiliar, impedimentizing discomfort. Double discomfort, throbbing, heated, encompassingly discomfiting uncomfortable discomfort.

The evening ritual involved encircling the fire, all the campers and counselors crossing arms and holding hands, some nice words to end the day, and singing. Henay matovu manayim... a mantra, hypnotizing, over and over, the words guttural, shevet achim gam yachad, soothing, repetitious, chocolaty, warm, pulsing, rising heeNAY... achim... yachad... The ch not like "chop" but kha, no English sound, a throaty sound, the letter X in Russian. Lozengy, physical. Percussive, drummy. Pounding.

Swaying back and forth, all together, the warm night, the song in minor key, repeating, the swaying the throbbing the singing, taking over, obliterating, the pain, rising, the throbbing, spreading to torso, to head, the forehead the cold forehead the singing pounding thrumming pain melding manayim throbbing matovu pounding drumming pain swaying swaying buckling swaying... the vague sense of someone falling, who?, people murmuring.

Looking up at faces looking down. Was it only concern, or was there knowing amusement? I'm okay, I insisted, wondering if there was... evidence. I'm fine, just got dizzy from the heat of the fire, or some other excuse. I didn't -- and don't -- think there was any way for them to have known. Somehow, I managed to convince them I didn't need to go to the infirmary.Walking slowly, I made it back to the bunk. Under observation, even if I knew the cure, there was no opportunity.

The pain was gone in the morning. Wonder if that was the beginning of my journey away from religion...

9 comments:

Jen said...

As a female, I always thought that it was pretty much a myth. Now I feel a bit guilty about some incidents in my past.

Jean said...

Must be something about *camping*...my husband spent a terribly painful afternoon in a tent after a "heightened senses" morning left him (ahem) unfulfilled. It was one of those "couldn't go forward, can't go back" kinda days.

egomosperficio said...

haha, there was an extended time in high school when i constantly suffered from this condition. somehow my mother understood my problem and would randomly leave ibuprofen on my bedroom desk. weird, i know. . .

i still get them at times, sid. guess that's better than needing viagara!

Frank Drackman said...

C/mon Sid we're Adults here, its called "Blue Balls", and hasn't changed since Eve gave Adam the Cold Vagina 5000 years ago...
You had Girls at your Summer Camp?!?!?!? Only Girls at the Borderline Concentration Boy Scout Summer Camp I went to were on the sticky pages of "Screw" magazine...
Never got the Blue Balls myself...now tendonitis of the Left Elbow.... they don't call it a"Repetitive Motion Injury" for nuthin.....

Glad to see ya back commentin on the vital issues of the day...

Frank

Sid Schwab said...

Blue balls? Really? No wonder there's that picture at the top of the post. I couldn't figure it out.

robert said...

Sid this may be unrelated but slightly amusing,the pampiniform plexus also gives rise to varicoceles. When I was in anatomy 2 years ago one of our professors Dr. William DeVries told my lab table that Jarvik had also invented an implantable pump to cure this. But it never caught on for some reason, go figure.

SeaSpray said...

I didn't realize it could be that profound... enough to make you pass out.

Hey Dr S... it was God (says me)that gave you the equipment and the ability for pleasure... the timing was just off.

Okay..since we're sharing stories... I first learned about sex (sort of)when I was 9 from my 12 yr old friend.

She told me that when a man and woman have sex... they're naked and the man lays on top and they go up and down on the bed.

Well... I didn't understand...so when I went home..I told my mother I knew what sex was and what a man and woman do.

She asked me what and I told her... but then all puzzled I said...but I don't understand how they can go up and down on the bed like that.

She asked what I meant. ?

I said.. Using my hand to show the motion... I don't understand how the man and women slide to the top of the bed and then the bottom of the bed over and over again at the same time?

I thought the man gets on top of the woman and then they simultaneously moved up the bed so their heads went up to the head board and then simultaneously slid down to the bottom of the bed..in simultaneously. I don't even think I knew there was a penis involved or I'd remember that... or that they had any up and down motion.

Well my mother just bust out laughing and never did answer my question.

Oh..and I never did ..ever again ask her about sex.

Adjuster Mike said...

When I was about eight, my cousin's next door neighbor truly said to us, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." My cousin and I agreed and we went to a shed in the back yard. He and I both pulled out our hairless penises, and she exposed her hairless vagina. She laughed at us (some things never change) and said, "yours looks like a hot dog." I responded with the first thing that came to mind, "and yours looks like the bun!"

medrecgal said...

Blue ball...glad to see your sense of humor is still intact... I'm certain it wasn't funny at the time, however. Here's to hoping the muse brings back more anecdotes to keep this venture alive a while longer, even though some would suggest this post might be a little TMI. (I'm not, however...not much out there that fazes me these days, particularly given the kinds of things I see in medical records.)