The author at age 8 in his childhood bedroom on New York's Long Island. Courtesy of Brad Snyder The doctor held my penis in his right hand for my parents to see. I was 7 and lying on the examination table at my pediatrician’s office.
“If you come closer, you can see that one of the testicles is not in the scrotum,” Dr. R said. My right testicle was the focus.
It had made a home within my groin. “In the womb, the testicles are not yet in the scrotum until the 32nd week,” the doctor said. “But occasionally a child is born with one or both testicles undescended.
” Advertisement It was the early ’80s. Dr. R spoke like he and I were the stars of an after-school special designed to educate Americans on the life cycle of testicles.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to run away. I wanted to be anywhere but that office.
Before puberty, he explained, a testicle can sometimes ascend back into the groin spontaneously. Or it can end up there as a result of force. The word “force” immediately brought to mind a street hockey game from months earlier.
One of the bigger kids, Paul, hit a slap shot that landed in my nuts. Advertisement I could kill Paul . “Then,” the doctor warned, “if we cannot push the testicle down before it grows bigger during puberty, surgery will be necessary.
” His words sent waves of terror crashing along every shore of my body. Tears streamed down my face. *** The name for this condition, when originating at birth, is cryptorchidism.
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