The Mummy Dick
When I was nine years old my mother went on a pilgrimage for a year to find her artistic inner being. My little brother got to stay with our Aunt Eliza and I was taken sixty miles north and dropped off at my grandparent’s house in Leakesville, North Carolina. I never saw or heard from my mother or little brother during that entire year. At first I thought it was my fault, because I was such a disappointment. I had failed the third grade. I just could not seem to grasp how to read and it wasn’t like anyone at home had the time to be involved in my academic curriculum. I later discovered that my failing the third grade had absolutely nothing to do with her decision.
Mom decided that the best way to get my mind off of being abandoned for the year was to have me circumcised the first day that I arrived at Granny and Papa’s house. Why this procedure was not done right when I was born is still a mystery to me. Evidently the whole family just wanted to have a good laugh at my expense. The smell of the “Ether” used as an anesthetic back then, to knock me out for the operation, is the only thing I remember about the surgery. The nurse, with a surgical mask over her face, told to count backward from ten as she dripped the “Ether” on the thing covering my nose and mouth. When I hit nine I was out. I guess the operation was a success and I awoke from my strange “Ether” induced dreams to find that I had a mummy dick. That is the only way it can be described. For a supposedly simple operation, I had tape and gauze covering my entire penis from tip to base, stem to stern, end to end. I remember thinking while lying in the hospital bed before I was released, “quick, walk faster the mummy dick is coming”.
Mom began her sabbatical the day after I was released from the hospital. I vividly remember the effort of staggering out to the large front porch, walking with my feet wide apart and how she waved to me as if she were in a parade, out of the car window, as she drove away. It was a full week before the smell of the “Ether” finally got out of my sinuses.
When you are a new born baby and have this circumcision procedure done it is quite simple and as an infant you would remember nothing about it. When you are nine or ten it is a little more complicated and you never forget the experience. The doctor and nurses had wrapped my entire little penis in gauze and white tape after the surgery. It was totally covered except for a tiny hole at the tip so that I could pee. Now this tubular tape and gauze bandage was supposed to be changed each day for the first two weeks until my little penis was partially healed. It would have been bad enough if my mother had been there to change the dressing, but for my eighty year old grandmother to have to perform this horrible, painful and embarrassing act each day for two weeks is more than most nine year old little boys could have endured.
The physical pain was secondary to the psychological damage I suffered. Each afternoon during the first two weeks of my new life at Granny and Papa’s house, I would stand in the bathroom with my pants around my ankles and submit to having the bandage changed by my little grandmother. I am not talking about a band aid, you know. I am talking about a full mummy dick bandage change that took what seemed like hours to complete. Each afternoon, with the help of my grandmother, my little penis did a strip tease and then had a brand new white overcoat put on it. It is a wonder I did not just go gay right there! I have not had a more embarrassing experience in my life...
When I was nine years old my mother went on a pilgrimage for a year to find her artistic inner being. My little brother got to stay with our Aunt Eliza and I was taken sixty miles north and dropped off at my grandparent’s house in Leakesville, North Carolina. I never saw or heard from my mother or little brother during that entire year. At first I thought it was my fault, because I was such a disappointment. I had failed the third grade. I just could not seem to grasp how to read and it wasn’t like anyone at home had the time to be involved in my academic curriculum. I later discovered that my failing the third grade had absolutely nothing to do with her decision.
Mom decided that the best way to get my mind off of being abandoned for the year was to have me circumcised the first day that I arrived at Granny and Papa’s house. Why this procedure was not done right when I was born is still a mystery to me. Evidently the whole family just wanted to have a good laugh at my expense. The smell of the “Ether” used as an anesthetic back then, to knock me out for the operation, is the only thing I remember about the surgery. The nurse, with a surgical mask over her face, told to count backward from ten as she dripped the “Ether” on the thing covering my nose and mouth. When I hit nine I was out. I guess the operation was a success and I awoke from my strange “Ether” induced dreams to find that I had a mummy dick. That is the only way it can be described. For a supposedly simple operation, I had tape and gauze covering my entire penis from tip to base, stem to stern, end to end. I remember thinking while lying in the hospital bed before I was released, “quick, walk faster the mummy dick is coming”.
Mom began her sabbatical the day after I was released from the hospital. I vividly remember the effort of staggering out to the large front porch, walking with my feet wide apart and how she waved to me as if she were in a parade, out of the car window, as she drove away. It was a full week before the smell of the “Ether” finally got out of my sinuses.
When you are a new born baby and have this circumcision procedure done it is quite simple and as an infant you would remember nothing about it. When you are nine or ten it is a little more complicated and you never forget the experience. The doctor and nurses had wrapped my entire little penis in gauze and white tape after the surgery. It was totally covered except for a tiny hole at the tip so that I could pee. Now this tubular tape and gauze bandage was supposed to be changed each day for the first two weeks until my little penis was partially healed. It would have been bad enough if my mother had been there to change the dressing, but for my eighty year old grandmother to have to perform this horrible, painful and embarrassing act each day for two weeks is more than most nine year old little boys could have endured.
The physical pain was secondary to the psychological damage I suffered. Each afternoon during the first two weeks of my new life at Granny and Papa’s house, I would stand in the bathroom with my pants around my ankles and submit to having the bandage changed by my little grandmother. I am not talking about a band aid, you know. I am talking about a full mummy dick bandage change that took what seemed like hours to complete. Each afternoon, with the help of my grandmother, my little penis did a strip tease and then had a brand new white overcoat put on it. It is a wonder I did not just go gay right there! I have not had a more embarrassing experience in my life...
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