The one where I break my husband's penis

Monday morning I got up early and turned off the alarm to let Ian sleep in; Alex and I were going to take the placement tests, so I thought I'd drop Rachel and Kevin off at school, take the damn tests (yes, damn tests; Alex thinks he did well but I am positive there's someone at that school laughing his ass off at mine) then by the time I got home, he would be up.

He was awake, but not out of bed, when I got back; he was laying in bed with the cats curled up on his chest, and he hadn't gotten up because he didn't want to disturb the, (yes, the cats he says he “hates.”) He had both of them snuggled up to his chin and was watching The View. That's when I should have presumed everything was going to go downhill, but all I thought was how cute it was he was letting the cats sleep on him, and that he'd complained about a back ache on Sunday, so I picked the cats up and put them on a chair, told him to roll over, and started to rub his back.

It honestly started off as just a back rub, but he enjoyed it a little too much...long story short, without the aid of Viagra or Cialis, by one in the afternoon I was freaking out, because I'd broken him, and he was starting to get uncomfortable. His doctor (and that was one of the most uncomfortable phone calls I've ever made, and you can be sure he made me make the call) suggested an ice pack, and if that didn't help; go to the ER.

We wound up at the ER. If I thought the call to the doctor was uncomfortable, telling the 20 year old at the counter was embarrassing as hell. She was as professional as she should have been, but I did notice she couldn't help but peek over to where Ian was miserably hunched over in a chair. They took him right in, which obviously annoyed people who had been there first, but at that point I didn't care. He was moving past uncomfortable into it hurts and I have to admit, I felt responsible.

They tried another ice pack, a muscle relaxant, they tried numbing his entire groin, but nothing was working, so they decided to drain the blood.

If you want to see a grown man try to not cry, tell him you're going to jab him in the penis at least twice to draw out as much blood as possible, and then tell him you're sorry, but you need to stick him a third time.

They wanted to admit him to get a better look at what caused the problem (other than me) but Ian being Ian, he refused and said he'd follow up with his own doctor—which really meant “I feel fine now, and I'm done letting people play with my junk.” So he wasn't thrilled with me when I made him an appointment for Tuesday morning.

Longer story shorter, he had a cyst that was blocking the works. So this morning I dragged him out of the house, not quite kicking and screaming, and he had surgery to remove it. The cyst was big, about the size of a tangerine, and it's surprising it didn't cause him problems or pain before this. Everything went well, but a couple of hours after the surgery he was running a low grade fever, and they decided to keep him. He started to tell them he was going home no matter what, but I convinced him to stay by threatening to tell the kids exactly why he was suddenly having this surgery (all they know is he had some pain, saw the doctor, and the doctor wanted the cyst out.)

I still feel bad about it all, but if he hadn't had this happen now, chances are as the cyst grew and began to slowly press on things more he would have had gradual problems, chalked it up to age, and wound up permanently impotent. And that would not have gone over well at all.