The Tip Of The Penis

The week seemed like it was already going badly enough when I shot a chunk of flaming metal into my crotch. The metal, traveling at high velocity, impacted right on the tip of my penis, and it hurt very badly. This was a unique and acute type of pain. It nearly brought me to my knees, but instead I jog-limped into the house and pulled down my pants to inspect the damage. There was a welt. Once I saw that nothing was split, severed, or crushed, the pain quickly subsided.

To explain—I was using an angle grinder to shorten some bolts. One of the cut bolt ends spun around in the grinding blade and ended up shooting straight back into my groin. It was a one in a million shot, and it was a direct hit.

It shook me up. I was wearing ear muffs and eye goggles to protect my hearing and vision. I had never thought before about metal flinging into my penis. They absolutely did not go over that in the welding class I took, I definitely would have remembered.

Storm of Tragedy

I’m not even going to get into the ongoing series of tragedies that have been hitting right here in our North State community. We’re losing friends, neighbors, relatives,
and four-legged companions at an alarming rate. Personal loss has even struck here at the Double Happiness Farm, where the flags have been flying at half-mast for going on three weeks now. I’m not ready yet to write about it in any detail, but Archie the puppy’s stomach ailment I mentioned last week turned out to be fatal. We buried the sweet little guy last Thursday. It’s a tumultuous time when the world seems to be revealing just how cruel it can really be. If you are in it you know, and if you aren’t, you don’t want to know.

Back to the Issue in Hand…

I guess the penis is sort of like the tongue tissue in that it heals fast. Within an hour the pain was easy to ignore; after three there was only a pea-sized purple bruise left to illuminate the event. Right now it feels weird, but not painful. I don’t know how else to describe it. Still, as novel as the experience has been, it’s not something I could recommend.

The winds are picking up and the clouds gathering. It looks like it could rain at any moment. It’s tempting to close the doors and the drapes and sequester myself in the house while the physical and emotional storms pass by overhead; but a friend of mine said it best when she recommended instead that we run wild and live actively, keeping in mind that life is a fleeting thing. Moments lost can never be reclaimed.

So we grieve, and eventually we start to remember, and to smile and laugh a little bit. We sigh and shrug our shoulders and take a deep breath before carrying on, because what else can we do?

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Bob Howard has been living, working, and writing in Northern Califonria since he moved to Chico in early 2000. In January 2011, he and his wife Trish relocated to Los Molinos, 30 minutes north of Chico, where they are the proud proprietors of the Double Happiness Farm. There they grow organic food, ornamental plants and trees, and generally work to enjoy the beauty of this great region.