August 30th 1995

It's been 14 days since I was involved in that road traffic accident and on this day I woke at 4am in the most excruciating pain I have ever experienced in my life. I feel like somebody has stuck a red hot knitting needle in through my left testicle and out through my left kidney. The pain is so bad I can barely breathe, let alone cry out.

I lay there for over two hours, Rachel asleep at my side, unable to move and slowly the pain subsides to a level where I can get out of bed and go find some painkillers.

I'm up now, the painkillers have kicked in and I may as well get myself ready for work. Tea for the wife, bottle for the baby, breakfast for Richard. The routine masks the pain almost as well as the six co-codamol I swallowed. Over breakfast I talk to Rachel about the pain and she suggests I ring our GP, Dr Singh. That doesn't elicit the response she expected. Normally she'd get an outright 'no' as I loathe Doctors with a passion. Doctors treat sick people and malingerers as far as I am concerned, I am and never have been either. I cycle 110 miles a week for fun, I walk everywhere and I eat well. I used to run for my Regiment in Iron man events, cross country and orienteering events and I don't even get a sniffle during a flu outbreak. I don't do sick.

But, this pain has well and truly frightened me so I agree.

Two days later sees me in the company of my GP at a practice I have been a registered patient of for twenty five years. My GP has never seen me once in all that time. He's a nice enough fellow, asks a few pertinent questions and nods sagaciously when I tell him of the car accident some two weeks prior.

'Can I take a look at your testicles' he asks.

'OK' says I.

Well, he looks, asks where the pain was worse and then proceeds to roll the left hand lad around in his hand. I do consider punching him out flat and leaving as he seems all too comfortable with the time he is taking to roll once small ball (no pun intended) of flesh around in his hand.

He instructs me to get dressed and goes to sit behind his desk. In his opinion he can find nothing wrong with the structure of the testicle, but he thinks I may have squashed it when I was involved in the car crash. So, he suggests that I go and see a Urology Consultant just to set our minds at rest. So he gives me an admission letter to my local Accident and Emergency Department with instructions to go there once I have left his surgery. A bit sudden I think, but he tells me no to worry, it's just procedural.

Okay.

Upon arrival at A&E, I hand in my letter, answer a few questions and take a seat in the waiting room. The board on the wall says that current waiting times are approximately two hours so I figure I should just settle down and wait then.

Not five minutes later, my name is called and a severe looking woman in a nurses uniform escorts me into the strip lit bowels of the hospital. I am shown a stark cubicle with a basket and a washed out green gown, told to strip, don the gown and then go and sit in waiting area 'B'.

Okay.

Clutching my possessions to my chest as Harry Potter would his precious wand I sit nervously waiting in area 'B'. I have figured out that I can probably snap the neck of the receptionist with ease, knock out the few staff in the area and make good my escape in less that fifteen seconds if I set my mind to it. The plan is starting to move from the ludicrous to the down right attractive when my name is called again.

The young slip of a gel who summoned me introduces herself as a Doctor... even though she only looks sixteen years old, she wants me to believe she is a Doctor.

Okay.

I am taken to another anonymous, stark cubicle, with a bed in it this time. Told to leave my clothes on the lone chair in the corner, get on the bed and lay on my side. I am asked to describe my symptoms and the circumstances that led to them. I explain about the crash some two weeks ago, the current symptoms and my GP insisting I come to the hospital.

'A car crash' she asks. 'I presume you are seeking compensation for injuries suffered as a result of the accident then'.

'I've got myself a solicitor, yes'. I reply.

'I presume you'll wish to add this phantom pain to the list of injuries then'? She snaps.

'Phantom pain'? I query.

'Breathe in for me'. She asks.

She sticks her finger up my arse. None too gently either.

I manage to gasp and inform her that my balls are on the outside and at the front. She mutters something to the effect that her finger currently residing in my arse is merely a procedural thing.

Okay.

It's at this point that the curtain to our cubicle and my world of pain and misery is swished to one side and Mr M M Gammall enters from stage left.

From a face filled with too many white teeth and eyes that twinkled a tad too much for their own good rumbled a voice that commanded respect and judging by the look on the face of the young lady Doctor, fear too. Within a few mere seconds, he had established the cause of my appearance in his A&E department, caught up on the investigations so far, got me to lie on my back and with a look of thoughtful repose on his face he had my testicles rolling around in his hands before I knew what was happening.

Okay, but he has that lad on the left rolling around far too much for my liking.

'I think' he says in that quite, comforting voice that Doctors have, 'That you have crushed your left testicle in that car crash as I can feel a small lump which I believe to be a haematoma'

'A what'? I ask.

'A small blood clot'. He soothes.

He summons the young lady over and asks if I mind in she just takes a moment to roll my testicles around in her hands.

He needs to ask?

He guides her slowly around the testicle (please God don't let me get an erection) and directs her around to the blood clot. She nods as she makes small movements of her hands to locate its exact location (I promise I'll be good for the rest of my life God).

Satisfied, she leaves my fondled lads alone as Gammall once again takes over.

'I don't believe this to be anything sinister, but I'd like to see you in my urology clinic next week. I'll get you an appointment now, you can go home and I'll see you then. Don't worry Mr Traynor, I don't think it is anything to be concerned about, I just want to be certain everything is as it should be'.

Okay.

I'll see you in a week then.

I'm off home.