Last Monday, doing lunchtime exercises, I squashed my dick a bit between my body and the weightlifting bench. Twenty minutes later when I took a leak, it hurt slightly, though it hadn't been squashed that seriously. I actually recognised the feeling a bit from thirteen years ago when shortly after my first sex with Ralph I came down with gonorrhoea (see On the floor [1 of 2]): that first stage felt exactly like this. I also remembered that in the next stage taking a leak felt like pissing needles. Fuck! Nevertheless, I consciously chose to have unprotected oral sex and run the risk of getting one of the curable STDs (see New Year's resolution).Who gave me this? Either the threesome the day before (see Every man's dream) or the muscle god three weeks before that (see An awful weekend). If the latter, I would have had symptoms earlier on, but if the former the symptoms were quick to appear. Still, it must have been the threesome.
The next time I peed I didn't feel anything strange. Had I just imagined the pain then? I kept a close eye on it for the next 36 hours and realised I had been fooling myself. Maybe it was just that I didn't trust the guys of the threesome to have been all that careful with hygiene or something. Anyway, since I was clean and I needn't worry, there was no reason say 'no' when the Romanian guy wanted to come over on Tuesday night.
On Wednesday morning I woke up with a major headache and it seemed I had a bit of excretion -- although it looked a bit like precum, I didn't think it was since that never comes in my sleep. Again, I was reminded of the situation from thirteen years ago. Moreover, I felt a slight pain again when I peed, and so I emailed my boss that I took a day off.
I tried to call the STD clinic where I have myself checked twice a year, but my phone couldn't connect to the network. When it still wasn't working by afternoon, I decided to just go there. Without an appointment the waiting time would be somewhat longer, but it was my only option. I got on my bike and rode through the rain and storm and the slow traffic. When I arrive at the clinic fifty minutes later, the receptionist told me they had changed policy: they only saw people with appointments.
I went outside, hoping my phone would operate again in the different environment, but it didn't. I went back inside and explained to the receptionist that my phone didn't work. "Not my problem," he observed. "But, can you schedule an appointment for me?" I asked. "No, you have to call for an appointment," he replied, his expression indicating that I was very stupid for having wasted his time with that question. "But... but, my phone doesn't operate... there's no way for me to call you...," I said in a helpless tone. "Not my problem," was his response.
I went home and tried to call the clinic using Skype. Unfortunately I got no pick up until after 4.30 p.m. when a recorded message told me I had to call before 4.30 p.m. The next day at work my phone did connect to the network once more so I called the clinic to make an appointment for Friday morning at nine. Asking for another day off, I told my boss someone had given me a present I didn't like over the weekend and that I needed to return it on Friday. After he left the room and I added to my colleague Stephen that I'd probably have to take a pill to get rid of the present. He smiled.
I drank a lot at breakfast on Friday morning, because I knew that after the examination they would want a urine sample. At the clinic I waited for about half an hour and then I couldn't wait any longer. I had to pee. Ten minutes later I was called into the doctor's office. Two throat swabs, two penis swabs, a rectal swab, and two tubes with blood later I was sent back to the waiting room with two empty containers for urine. It took me more than an hour until I could pee again.
When the doctor called me in again she said that to her surprise -- I told her about the symptoms -- she couldn't find anything. My blood was okay and so were the preliminary results from the swabs. I had to call next Friday for the definitive results. I know I have gonorrhoea though, so I'll just hope I won't be pissing needles before next week. I was kind of hoping they'd find something so I could get a pill, but no such luck. Now I will have to call them next Friday and come back for the pill. That's another afternoon I have to take off, and another week that I can't have sex.
Just as I started writing this, I found I was starting to leak pus -- so gross! I just sent the Romanian a message with my diagnosis, some reassurance, my apologies, and the phone number of the clinic. I wonder if he still thinks I'm a nice guy.










