The Adventures of Half-Sack.

Well, I was going to keep this to myself, but what better to share my shitty fucked up life with you dicks, who will eventually use it to attack me with pathetic insults and comebacks only your mom would ask back. All of you may know me as the gentle, kind and loving guy who always talked about how big his balls are and how you'll never amount to anything. You got that right. Especially the balls part. This is a story about my testicles, and how paying attention to your beans will pay out in the end. Especially when you're early. They aren't kidding when they say to inspect your body for anything unnatural. I did that, and found Gilligan's Island growing on my right nut. Things didn't really seem different until I started to notice drastic changes and slight pain. My body was telling me to get it checked but the porn was telling me to stay. Decisions like this are usually saved for the most important of men, and that day, I was a VIP in my own right. I could say this is all life changing, but so is taking a dump, because they're all usually never the same. Gratifying if you will. This however did make me see things in a whole new light, and somehow, I'm going to be a little more cautious and less arrogant when it comes to watching porn. Oh and life as well.



The day is November 27th, and I was slapping the dog. Oh before I continue, this blog update will probably be the most graphic and vulgar one to date, so make sure if you're a guy, wear your condom and ladies don't hesitate to call after. Seriously though, balls, dick ass and blood will be mentioned a ton here. Maybe not blood but fuck you. Anyways. I was choking my snake to some awesome orgy porn. Probably the best I've ever seen. Literally, I was going for about an hour and a bit, new record. After all was said and done, I noticed a somewhat stinging sensation in my penis. I've had this feeling before, dunno why but it wasn't unknown to me. I started to notice my balls hurt a tad, and then a bit more for about an hour or so. I thought nothing of it and walked it off. After getting myself some food, I plop down on my bed and start to play my Xbox 360. I notice the pain is nowhere near as much as before, but it's still there. I touch my testicles and notice the right one being a little uncomfortable, almost bruised. I shrugged my shoulders and came to the conclusion that I gotta take it easy when I play with my soldiers. After a long gaming session and many hours of yelling into my mic, I head to sleep. After several days, changes begun. Oh shi--

So now, I noticed my right testicle was beginning to grow a mind of its own. It started to feel more like a walnut, and it still was sensitive to touch. As I was going on with my life, I continued to check up on my nut. I could remember a time where something similar happened, but never a misshape on the testicle. Only slight pain and somewhat of a bruised feel. But that went away after an hour or so. This was going on a week, but no pain unless I touched it. I got a little worried but at the same time, nothing felt different if I didn't pay attention to it. I was being stubborn and thought this would go away just like everything else. I brought it to the attention of my buddy, and he was telling me to get it checked within the coming week. Now I'm not one to be shy about certain things, especially my balls. But it's kind of weird to go to a doctor and tell them to check your nuts. Well for me that is. I wasn't embarrassed, more like trying to stall a bit until I was ready to go. I wasn't going to be foolish and wait months, but I practically waited 2-3 weeks until I took action. Something that, *hopefully* was the right thing to do.

I noticed on Saturday, December 18th that I awoke with pain again, this time it was constant. Not excruciating but a constant annoying, discomforting feeling. I tried to sleep it out during the day, but I was somewhat depressed and noticed I didn't care to do anything. I felt my testicle again and noticed the shape was much different, and much harder. I hired a professional artist to draw an exact picture to how I felt that the testicle looked, but I fired him because he called me names. So I did it myself and came up with a better picture. Picasso is in my blood!


















 It almost felt like my testicle was flipping me off from the inside. Anyways, I got my parents to drive me to the ER and that's were this whole adventure started really. I went to the Triage and told the guy there exactly what was up. Went a little something like this;

Nurse - "Hello sir, what seems to be the problem?"
Me - "Balls. Pain."
Nurse  - "Excuse me?"
Me - "My testicle hurts, it's the size of a grapefruit and I'm really worried."
Nurse - "Did you injure it somehow? Sports? Rough sex? Anything of the sort?"
Me - " I haven't had sex in god knows how long, so thanks for that, and I'm hitting 215, with no athletic ability whatsoever unless you consider gaming a sport and even then I barely play as much as I used to. My ball hurts, I need to see a doctor right away, enough chit chat."
Nurse - "All right then sir, I'll put you down as groin and testicular pain, possibly a sport injury."
Me - "And I'll eat your stupid face if I don't see a doctor right away."

That last part was said in my mind but he got the point. After much talking to several nurses about my info and whatnot, I was called in right away. A cute, petite nurse came to me and asked me to describe it to her. I'm not usually used to telling a female about my sack problems especially when there isn't steak involved. I tried my best not to make this sexual in any way, so I told her my balls were huge. Good job Jp. She tells me to wait on a bed, and get my pants lowered for the doctor to check my nads. As I hear his voice, my breath grows still and the air begins to chill. My legs start to shake as I worry myself to what this monster will look like. The drape opens and there he is, Ball Crusher Muhammad. He tells me to turn the other way and lower my boxers. The second he grabs me, he crushes my left nut, and I laugh at him because I have balls of steel. Until he destroyed my right, Atlantis testicle. I nearly cried, and was in pain even more so. He apologized and told me to wait until they can get an ultra sound ready for me. I waited, half naked in a gown, beside all the Indian people you can imagine. Somehow, the savior of the Indian race graced us with his visit, because at least 17 people walked in with this five year old, who was still riding in a stroller. He must have been important, because he also had 4 nurses taking care of him. He has the flu. They start crying. I begin to regret having testicles to be in this situation.

After hours of waiting, I was sent to get my ultra sound done. Lo and behold, Joseph Stalin was my ultra sound guy, playing with balls with some gel. It felt weird. Very weird. After he had his cigarette and whiskey, he began to jab at my balls with the machine. Pregnant women, you must know this feeling, and you're lucky it's your damn stomach. After super gliding my balls with the world's coldest gel and oldest ultra sound machine in the world, which looked similar to my Commodore 64, I was sent back to the waiting room. After a few more hours, and me not eating or drinking anything, the doctor comes up to me with the news. He began to tear up and somehow my parents appeared right at this exact moment, almost magically knowing the news was here. I was already prepared for everything, and evidently, more so than the doctor. He tells me that it is a mass, and I'm being sent to a urologist the coming Monday. My parents don't know what a mass means, so they assumed I was having my own little sermon in my balls. As we headed home, my father, who instantly turned into a doctor, told me that it's not a tumor and it must be from all the fried food I've eaten in my life. Yeah dad. Balls digest food. 

So I waited patiently, until Monday when I went to see the urologist. Nice guy. Felt me up gently, and since this is the third person checking my balls, I was more prepared. As I was cracking open the wine bottle, he began to tell me what was happening. Nothing I didn't know already, and he came to the conclusion it was testicular cancer or a tumor of sorts. He calls my father in, and just so you know, cancer is a very harsh word in my family. Even though this is the highest cured cancer ever, and that I most likely caught it early, it's still cancer to his ears. The doctor begins to tell him, and the flood works happen. My dad, the strongest guy I know, tearing up like Simba in The Lion King. After comforting him, saying that there's a high chance that I'll only need surgery and I should be able to produce sperm normally even with the one nut, my father begins to settle down.  We proceeded to a co-worker of Mr. Urologist master, since he no longer does surgery. A woman. Again. Dammit. This one though, was middle aged and wasn't that good looking at all. So it helped with the awkwardness when I told her my balls were huge. She gave me the low down, and told me that she wasn't sure what it was so I had to take a blood and urine test and a chest x-ray. I was sent to the hospital once again, and was told I would be finding my results soon.

After several days, I received the call, and voila she tells me it's almost positive that it's cancerous. No one knows if it spread but to be safe, they gotta remove the big guy. So here I am, Christmas Eve, finding out that all I wanted for Christmas was my testicle coming out. So all you assholes who complained on what you got, or didn't get, know this. I got a pair of slippers and testicular cancer on Christmas. Yeah. Guilt trip bitch. So I was set for surgery on Wednesday, December 29th at 9 am. By this time, the whole world knew about my misfortune, which wasn't my plan since the last thing I wanted was people to worry about me. Especially at this time of the year. But man, when I say I'm loved, I really mean it. The support I got from everyone was outstanding. Tons of friends and family swamped my phone and Facebook. It was a nice feeling to have, even though everyone was more worried than I was.  A couple days before surgery, my friends took me to a strip joint. I guess it was their way to comfort me, even though I was getting pissed off because I could barely move and if a stripper gave me a lap dance then I would have no choice but to smack a bitch.

So, the day came and I went to the hospital. Balls deep, and I was ready. I got naked, and wore this crappy two gown dress. I took more blood tests, and then got IV stuck in my vein less hand. I was told to be there for 9 am. By the time I actually went in, it was about 2 45 pm. The amount of people who came to visit though had me almost teary. My friend's even got me a giant Teddy!....and the world's gayest get well card haha. I was happy. I'm somewhat glad that everyone knew, because I wasn't alone at the hospital. I was with people I cared about, and it made everything that much more easier. All the jokes we had, and the time we spent, up until I laid down on the operation table. Right before they gave me the mask though, I'll admit. I shed a tear, Not because I was worried or afraid, but because I had so many people who actually gave a damn about me. I know my family loves me and my friends care, but this was different. It was quite possible the nicest thing ever, and I won't forget it for the rest of my life. After a few hours I awoke with much pain and a giant headache. They gave me as much morphine that they can legally give, and sent me to the recovery room where I took my Tylenol 3 and laid down for a bit. My brother and sister were with me who were shortly accompanied by my aunt and cousin. They got me food. FOOD. Jesus. I didn't eat or drink for almost 24 hours now, I wanted to die.

After it was all said and done, I went home. Finally. The first part is over, and let's hope it's the last. Going home to a warm and loving family, filled with laughter and food, I rested easy, knowing it's all better now. I'm recovering faster than I thought, somewhat reminding me that I might have Wolverine's DNA in me, because I can walk normally with less pain and color has returned to my face. Heck, we're both Canadian too! All I have left to do is my Cat Scan next week, and a visit to the doctor for an update. Maybe even bank some sperm to be on the safe side so I can birth little Jp's in the future. Every thing's looking a little more up now, and finally I might actually have a good year. 2011 is going to be mine. I'm going to rape the shit out of it and then call it back for seconds. I don't care what gets thrown my way because not only will I be able to come out standing tall, but I'll have my friends and family there no matter what. So I say this to you before I end off this year with the longest entry yet, take care of your health. Cherish your family. Love your friends. Believe me, there's nothing better in this life knowing that you're healthy and you've got people who give a shit about you. I love you all guys, and if anyone ever wants to visit, you know what to do ;).

Much love always and Happy Cooking, Happy Holidays!

Jean Paul Mallah

December 30th 2010 - Year's Final Entry~