“You getting gassed up so you can play with me tomorrow?” I nod to all the shit he’s hooked up to.
He smiles, but it’s sad and old, way older than it should be for a kid. “Something like that.”
Nurse Debbie appears in her white running shoes and scrubs. I’d like to say she’s in her mid-fifties and looks like my aunt. She doesn’t. She’s more Debbie Does Dallas than Nurse Ratched. She’s probably in her early to mid-thirties—I’ve slept with older—with dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She’s soft around the edges, but it works for her. She’s too attractive to be a nurse. I’m not sure how I feel about her having to look at my junk. But the itch has become as pervasive as the burning sensation. I’m getting close to not caring that there are people around to witness me scratching my berries.
She does that thing women do when they see something they like. She pats her hair and smooths a hand down the front of her scrub top. It’s an unconscious reaction. She clears her throat and props her clipboard on her hip, flipping into professional mode. “How can I help you?”
“I got bit by a spider, and it’s swelling.” I want to shove my hands in my pockets, but there’s no room.
“Why don’t you have a seat so I can take a look?”
“Uh . . .” I incline my head in the direction of my young friend. “We’re gonna need privacy for this.”
Nurse Debbie’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. She does that strobe-light blink thing. “Privacy?”
“It’s not in a PG spot.”
She strobe blinks a couple more times and gestures to one of the cots. She hands me one of those gown things and closes the curtain while I drop my shorts and put it on. I’ve never put the lightning rod on display under such shitty circumstances.
When I’m gowned up, I invite her in. Nurse Debbie doesn’t bother to mask her shock when I show her my junk. “Oh my God.”
I’m not sure if it’s an optical illusion, but my balls seem even bigger than they were last time I looked. They’re about the size of a softball now, with one side significantly more swollen than the other. They usually resemble a couple of plums hanging out together. Right now the left one is massive, and the swelling has traveled to the other side. It makes my dick look a lot smaller than it is. And the shaft is swollen where it meets my balls, so it’s taken on a torpedo-like shape. If I had an orange condom, I could paint my balls green and call it carrot dick. Except I don’t think I could get a hard-on right now if I tried.
“It’s a little swollen.”
Nurse Debbie’s eyes flip up to mine, her disbelief obvious. “A little?”
“Okay. A lot. But it’s not a big deal, right? The swelling’ll go down if I take an antihistamine and ice those babies.”
“Do you know what bit you?”
“A spider. I squished it when it fell out of my shorts.”
“It fell out of your shorts?”
“Yeah. I was chilling on the dock after dinner, checking my emails, ’cause it’s peaceful out there, and the reception is decent.” I don’t know why I’m explaining. What I was doing isn’t important. It’s the state of my balls that matters.
“If you were on the dock, it was probably a fishing spider. It’s hard to know for sure until I get a better look.” She snaps on a pair of gloves. “This is a pretty extreme reaction, though, possibly because of the location. Do you have any allergies?”
“I’m only allergic to penicillin.”
“Ah. That could explain this.” She motions to my huge balls.
“An allergy to penicillin can explain my nuts turning into grapefruit?”