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