TMI, TMI, TMI

The last four days have been nothing but TMI. So the whole world (or the half a dozen people who regularly read this blog) know that I had the unfortunate experience of a prolonged erection requiring medical care. Oddly, when you think about being able to keep it up for that long it's hell, yeah, she'll be walking funny tomorrow but the reality is basically awful.

For the record, I don't recommend trying to have sex for nearly four hours; no one walks away from that without some chafing. And yes, we tried everything our perverted brains could think of, but at some point it stopped being fun and I was begging her to just leave.it.alone.

She feels responsible, but really, how could she be? That spur of the moment very horny backrub probably saved me from worse problems later; I'm sore as hell right now, but I realized in the middle of the night I could tell a difference, because I didn't get up to pee three times. The cyst was just big enough (more like a mandarin orange, not like a fist sized tangerine) to press on my bladder, my prostate, and a key blood vessel; I never felt any pain, and never suspected a thing, but not having to get up was a bonus.

The news I did not want to hear upon discharge from the hospital this morning: there's a very slim chance, less than 5%, that I may never get another really good erection. I haven't had one since Monday (no surprise, considering) and won't purposely try for a few more days, but I guarantee if I wake up tomorrow without one, I may cry.