KRISTI PETERSEN SCHOONOVER

I shouldn’t be writing this post. I’ve been musing undecidedly over whether to give a written birth to it from thought, mainly due to the explicitly personal nature of it – but I suppose that is what writing is all about.

For a few weeks now, one of my balls has been troubling me. When I say ‘balls’, yes, I mean testicles. And when I say ‘troubling’ me, I mean killing me.

I feel that now I’ve got that dreaded ‘T’ word out of the way, I can write through the rest of this post. The pain started a few weeks back. A dull ache – nothing to arouse too much concern. Having had an operation as a child on the very same ball, after a sporting accident, I did begin to wonder if something had gone balls up and left me in a sticky situation.

Nah. It’ll pass.

Men…