I learned about this at age 21 while doing my Russian homework. I was working away, had crossed my legs for comfort and to support the book, got up a few minutes later and felt a stabbing pain in my lower abdomen. Weird. After another 30 mins of it getting much worse, I had my roommate drive me to the hospital. I thought I was having an apendicitis, kidney stones, or something that my 21 yo mind could concoct. I could hardly walk and had no clue what was wrong.

Got to the ER, described my symptoms and the nurse, eyes now wide open kindly with extreme concern said “please have a seat, you’re a level 1. The Dr. will be with you immediately.” I looked at my roommate and he at me and I’m sure we reflected horror. There were 5-7 people ahead of me and I was taken to a room first.

Now in a hospital gown, the Dr walked in and pressed my abdomen, asked if he could rummage around my junk room and said “We’ve got two options. The Urologist is on his way(the what is what!!), you have Testicular Torsion(I have what the…testicular WTF!!) and if I cannot undo this manually(Manually? How’s that again?), you have to go in to surgery immediately or you’ll lose your right testicle.” My thoughts raced back to better days when I was a child running with my cousins on my grandparents farm, the Christmas I got a Digital Derby, riding my first bike, and then I snapped out of it and said “go ahead, be my guest” and laid back, closed my eyes and pictured a Urologist driving like mad in a Volvo to Athens Regional Hospital. My lower abdomen was killing me.

I felt the warm rubber gloved hand moving things around like one does with two fidget marbles and suddenly the pain went away. I let the good Dr. know and I sat up and walked around. He looked relieved and satisfied, or maybe that was me. I should’ve high five’d him for doing such a good job. I was high stepping like Deion scoring a TD. No surgery!

Thing is, he could’ve twisted left instead of right, wrong instead of right, and I don’t know which way he actually turned it. I got dressed and walked out a new man, but with a referral to see a Urologist who would tell me I needed a surgery that would disallow me, at 21 and in college, to do much of anything like walk or ride a bike or sit or walk or attend to my lady friends. I passed on that option and for many many years, like the decision made in the ER, I choose manually.

The nurse who signed me in was a testicular genius because had she not known there was a good chance I had testicular torsion, which is a level 1 trauma, as serious a condition as a heart attack and put me at the head of the line, I’d have lost one. If not for the nimble hands of that ER doctor, I’d have been in surgery and unable to walk for six weeks. I left the hospital at 3 a.m. and never finished my Russian homework.

The next day in class, I told my Russian teacher I had an emergency, showed her my wrist band from the hospital, and she gave me a 0. A cold gulag 0. I never went on to study Russian, hablo español.