In an upcoming Playboy interview, Geraldo Rivera calls Barbara 
Walters "a very sexy babe" who is "profoundly sensual, very 
female being with a great body." He also says, "I'm no homo, 
but I'm not ashamed to say that I'd do Hugh Downs in a 
heartbeat." 

Scrotum Self-Repair


                                 Medical Aspects of Human Sexuality
                                      by William A. Morton, Jr.

One morning I was called to the emergency room by the head ER nurse.  She
directed me to a patient who had refused to describe his problem other
than to say that he "needed a doctor who took care of men's troubles."
The patient, about 40, was pale, febrile, and obviously uncomfortable, and
had little to say as he gingerly opened histrousers to expose a bit of
angry red and black-and-blue scrotal skin.  After I asked the nurse to
leave us, the patient permitted me to remove his trousers, shorts, and two
or three yards of foul-smelling stained gauze wrapped about his scrotum,
which was swollen to twice the size of a grapefruit and extremely tender.
A jagged zig-zag laceration, oozing pus and blood, extended down the left
scrotum.  Amid the matted hair, edematous skin, and various exudates, I saw
somehalf-buried dark linear objects and asked the patient what they
were.  Several days earlier, he said, he had injured himself in
the machine shop where he worked, and had closed the laceration himself
with a heavy-duty stapling gun.  The dark objects were one-inch staples of
the type used in putting up wallboard.

We x-rayed the patient's scrotum to locate the staples; admitted him to the
hospital; and gave him tetanus antitoxin, broad-spectrum antibacterial
therapy, and hexachlorophene sitz baths prior to surgery the next morning.
The procedure consisted of exploration and debridement of the left side of
the scrotal pouch.  Eight rusty staples were retrieved, and the skin edges
were trimmed and freshened.  The left testis had been avulsed and was missing.
The stump of thespermatic cord was recovered at the inguinal canal, debrided,
and the vessels ligated properly, though not much of a hematoma was present.
Through-and-through Penrose drains were sutured loosely in site, and the
skin was loosely closed.  Convalescence was uneventful, and before his
release from the hospital less than a week later, the patient confided
the rest of his story to me.

An unmarried loner, he usually didn't leave the machine shop at lunch time
with his coworkers.  Finding himself alone, he had begun the regular practice
of masturbating by holding his penis against the canvas drive-belt of a large
floor-based piece of machinery.  One day, as he approached orgasm, he lost
his concentration and leaned too close to the belt.  When his scrotum became
caught between the pulley-wheel and the drive-belt, he was thrown into the
air and landed a few feet away.  Unaware that he had lost his left testis,
and perhaps too stunned to feel much pain, he stapled the wound closed and
resumed work.  I can only assume he abandoned this method of self-
gratification.

[William A. Morton is a retired urologist residing in West Chester,
Pennsylvania.]

My high school friend, Janet, and I roomed together at 
college. We started in the summer as soon as we left 
high school.

She met her husband Leo there in the Fall; he was a 
Junior and we were 18-year-old innocents.  They married 
on New Year's Eve so they could have a few days off 
together from work and school.

New Year's Day afternoon I got a call from her to come 
over quick; they had the flu so bad they couldn't 
get up and were too bashful to call anyone else to help.

For a day or two I repeatedly washed and dryed their 
sheets and jammies and heated up soup and brought them 
juice and kleenex. While they slept I read a book. 

It's really funny now, but it wasn't then.

Two weeks later I met Dale.  On the 3rd of July, Janet 
was maid of honor at our wedding.  

So what I knew about honeymoons was that you eat soup 
and cough and sleep and read a book and take your 
jammies off and on a lot, and sweat and moan and 
somebody gets a headache and you wash and dry the sheets 
a lot and eventually you run out of juice. 

Ours was kind of like that, too.  

ha ha ha ha ha.

p.s.  Happy 50th Birthday, Janet!  We just sent this 
email all over the internet!


Love you both!

Anne and Dale in Orlando


Sent by Anne