Drink of Choice: Boulevardier (Sub Montenegro, Rittenhouse)
Word of the day: orchidectomy
My friends, it has come to this. What started, lo these many years ago as a one year experiment in chemical castration, is about to turn into a permanent state.
It is a simple procedure: a small incision; the testicles are removed. A few stitches and Bob, Fanny, enz. Uncles and Aunts are a precarious lot.
So much of a man’s life revolves around his: nuts, huevos, balls, jewels (More euphemisms than I can count). It is, in fact, silly.
I remember growing up on a farm. Animals were routinely castrated. I am familiar with the process. Straight forward and simple. A young 10 year old farm boy can do it. I will have a trained surgeon. Waste of an MD degree, really. Bottle of bourbon, sharp knife, bottle of bourbon. You could do it. Hell, I could do it myself. Maybe extra bourbon. Needle and thread. Bob and Fanny thing.
Testicles are interesting things. They have, in fact, caused many of humanity’s problems. Testosterone in particular is traceable to most evils in the world. I know this, having lived without for these past five years. A little less would make the world a better place.
Prior to surgery, I think to have a party where I serve nothing but testicles. Lamb, Pork, turkey and hog. They are in fact delicious. Most recipes are fried; I am thinking grilled and poached with a variety of sauces. Thank goodness I own Escoffier, “Ma Cuisine.”
As we age we start saying good bye to many things. The list is long; you have your own. Never thought my testicles would be on mine, but here we are.
Many more things to discuss in the coming months. One thing I will bring clarity to. When I was diagnosed with Prostrate Cancer five years ago, many people said “It’s just prostrate Cancer.” “Easily curable, blah, blah, blah.” You were wrong, It is a serious disease. It needs must should be treated as such.
My Year as a Eunuch 