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Here's my story: Got mine about age 35 after our delightful but unexpected third child... (Another story). Went in, never got offered the valium (doh!), got the local, and sat down and proceeded to make conversations with the staff to keep my mind off the SMOKE coming from the ol' scrot' (they cauterize stuff, you know). So my ol fella is on fire, which is a bit disconcerting, and my heart is beating like a jack rabbit, and the reeling sense of panic begins to take hold, especially since my grandfather died of a heart attack about the same age, and I'm figuring this is it, the heart is gonna explode. So the doctor is talking to his asst about some dude who just had a heart attack, and describing it in DETAIL and I finally had enough and asked them to change the subject. Must have sounded pretty paniced, cause they did, real quick. Kinda funny.
All the other stuff is true, the jockstrap, it's uncomfortable for a few weeks, I sure as hell didn't rock climb for a month or two, but it's fine now. So go for it.
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"My theory on life: Run screaming into the void" - Unknown, I only wish I would have said that first. And no, that's not my picture. Do you know whose it is???
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