Well, I finally went to the Sandyford this morning. And I know whats wrong with me....
Nothing! It was a combination of three things - normality, hypersensitivity and good old hypochondria. Fuck. Ing. Hell. Took me 20 months to sum up the courage to do something about it, and the "lumps" were what I originally suspected them to be - bloody hair folicles! In my rampant naivete I assumed it wasnt natural for them to spread as far as the foreskin. NEVER AGAIN AM I DOING THINGS THIS WAY. Ever.
And yet...I've decided not to regret the cack-handed way I handled this situation. Ultimately, I am a naive coward, I freely admit that. My reaction was natural for many in my situation - wrong, and the timescale was extreme, but nonetheless still natural. That, and what is the point in spending the rest of my life worrying and wondering about what could have been? I've done/not done plenty of things I'm not proud of and that I would glady take back had I the chance - Hell I'd take back large parts of Saturday night if I could. If I play my cards right I've got 70 years ahead of me, and 1 and a half in 70 is not a lot, really.
I seem to have undergone two significant potentially life changing experiences in the last fortnight. I like this. I'm happy. I'm
actually happy!
