‘My Blazing Nuts’, an Adults Only Story of Pain.

I had a near death experience some 40 years ago when I lived with my Mum and Dad and slept out the back of the house in a “sleep out”.
It was one warm Adelaide night that I rolled over in bed and displaced a testicle.
Where did it go? I don’t know, but all of a sudden I had a golf ball and a basketball where normally two snooker balls should have been !
Oh! The agony and searing pain. I staggered into the house and wailed for my dear old Dad.
My father had been a Sar Major in the Aussie Army and not unused to grief. “It will be fixed,” he announced. “Now go back to bed my boy and I will be out in a flash”.
I laid back on the bed groaning and throbbing. The door flew open and in walked Dad a can of Johnson’s Baby Powder in one hand and a Philips Heat Lamp in the other.


He proceeded to powder the painful area profusely with baby powder and then taking the heat lamp he concentrated its red intense ray on those poor unfortunate testicles.
Did it help you may ask?
No Bloody Way! After an hour of this torture I screamed “Help Me”!”
“Perhaps, I had better ring the Doctor,” Dad murmured.
Some time later he came back and said, “Not Good News I’m afraid son.” “There’s a possibility you may die if we don’t get you to the Royal Adelaide Hospital quick smart”.
We made it to the Emergency Ward in Dad’s old FC Holden.
There. a group of Doctors were excitedly calling to each other. “Hey! Come and have a look at this.” “I’ve never seen one of these before!”
They herded me into a small room and turned off the lights. I was hysterical. Then the flashlights started popping on as they strained to get a better view.
All I could see was eyes, doctor eyes!
Then the manipulation began as they tried to move the offending testicle back into its rightful pocket.
It worked, the relief was instantly wonderful as they congratulated themselves for saving yet another set of testicles.
I staggered out into the corridor to live yet another day. Dad was waiting and hugged me.
Under his breath I think I heard him say, “Next time I think I’ll use the bloody Savlon cream instead.”

About Derwombat

My name is Rod Parham, Hot Metal Compositor. I was born in Adelaide, South Australia in 1947. Single with two children and a grandson. I Love History, Movies and Words.

1 Response

  1. Stolen Biro

    I can relate to this – with equal pain!
    When in high school I was kicking a soccer ball around at lunch-time when I made a manoeuvre which caused one of my agates to completely disappear, causing me to drop to the ground and grab at the area in unbelievable agony.
    My agates weren’t the size of a golf, basketball or even a snooker ball (like he-man Rod’s) – mine were more like peas!
    No poking and fishing for the lost ball by me was working, so I got leave of absence and staggered the mile back to my temporary home for immigrants, where I laid writhing and groaning on my bed until help arrived.
    Help arrived a couple of hours later when dad came home from work. “Why are you home from school? What’s the matter with you? Soon after my strained reply to him, we were off to the local quack.
    Laying on the gurney the doc’s deft, manipulative fingers poked and, finally, twisted my agate into its correct position.
    As it was for you, Rod, my relief was equally instantly wonderful. I went on to kick many balls after that, with no further incidents.


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